If you read this blog with any regularity you will know that once the City of Montreal announced a pit bull by-law, I took it upon myself to seek out and interview an actual pit bull. This led to me subsequently being contacted and let in on how pit bulls were coping with the enacted law.
In the latest chapter of this ongoing saga, last Friday afternoon as I arrived at a favourite downtown watering hole for a few pints, I noticed a large poodle, in fact it was hard to miss given it was pink. Yep, a large pink poodle standing outside the door evidently unattended, but wearing a collar and leash. As I passed by I heard psst coming from the direction of the pink poodle. Turning back I saw the dog raise its paw to chest level, look both ways to insure secrecy, pull back its fur and there it was, Velcro. Only then did I realize this was my pit bull contact in disguise.
“Let’s walk,” he said under his Milkbone breath. As I was about to take a step he said “lead”. So I went ahead of him and looked back to see if he was following.
“No arsehole “ he growled. “Take the lead that is around my neck. Make it look like you are taking me for a walk. Believe me I don’t want to be tethered to you either”. I know many people in this part of downtown so I was hesitant to be seen walking a large pink poodle. I expressed my concern and he muttered (mutt-ered?) something about my being lucky if I don’t have to pick up after him. He had a point. He explained that his original cover had been blown a few weeks ago. He told me it was a chihuahua; I immediately understood his problem
As we strolled along the street, me keeping my head down as best I could, he brought up the subject he wanted to address. As part of Montreal’s 375th anniversary events, last weekend the city was visited by giants. Hideous goddamned three-storey tall nightmare inducing marionettes on cranes. There was a deep-sea diver, a little girl and her dog. A giant dog. He explained how Operation Trojan Dog followed by Operation Frolic would be played out on Sunday afternoon. My task was to be there and write about it. With this he broke loose and dashed off.
There I was on Sunday afternoon, one of about nine gazillion people waiting for the giants to wake up and make their way through the city. Just before the scheduled departure time I noticed that several pit bulls seemed to be coming out of the reclining giant dog. There were soon many more pit bulls, leaving the giant and frolicking with those in attendance. Clearly those present thought this was part of the performance, but I knew this was a means of pit bulls returning to public and showing their softer side. No catapult (dogapult?) for these tall thinkers. A shrewd public (puplic?) relations ploy if ever there was one.
Much as Virgil wrote in the Aeneid about how the Greeks scammed the Trojans with that wooden horse full of soldiers, the pit bulls of Montreal returned to the city in a huge dog. Beware of Greeks bearing gifts and certainly beware canines baring k-9s.