Once upon a time, from a bedroom suspiciously close to the one that I normally sleep in, there came a series of noises that I suspected weren’t entirely devoid of something marginally more sinister than the usual sounds of my Chinese neighbours snoring, or engaging in the kind of hardcore oxygen-deprivation sex that they appear to enjoy.
Not that it’s my place in the world to judge them for that – whatever floats your boat (or bursts all the blood vessels in your eyes while heightening your sexual experience at the point of clinical climax) – I’m not in any position to draw any valid conclusion about the kind of person I live next door to.
Except for the fact that they own a small, white dog. Pure white, it is. And really, really small.
At first I thought it was some form of ambulatory cleaning equipment – a hypothesis proved incorrect when it actually deposited a series of tiny pellets of shit on my driveway, proving irrefutably that it was designed to do the precise opposite of any cleaning equipment I’ve ever seen before.
The animal in question might appear tangential to this story thus far, but follow along – the high-speed, turd-emitting fluffball plays a starring role in what happened next.
As my neighbours engaged in their usual nocturnal activities, with the gentleman’s shouts of encouragement punctuated in a weird syncopation by the guttural, bilious grunts of a woman in the throes of sexual ecstasy and severe respiratory distress reverberating through the paper-thin adjoining wall of our bedrooms, I crammed my head beneath two pillows in a vain attempt to silence the noise. But the cacophony continued for an hour or more, and I began to fear for the safety of the young lady next door.
Surely, such prolonged attempts to stop her breathing would result in severe brain damage at best – and a suspicious death that would be hard to explain at worst.
But then I heard him shout. “Poko! No!” he bellowed. “Poko!! No!! Fuck off Poko!!”.
I don’t speak Chinese, so I might have the wording slightly wrong here, but above her desperate gasping for breath, along with his near-orgasmic grunts and imploring for Poko to “Fuck Off”, I heard a tiny, tiny noise… the unmistakable sound of a small, furry dog’s razor-sharp teeth puncturing the scrotum of the man choking that poor little pup’s mistress in pursuit of a cheap sexual thrill.
As I said, my Chinese is rusty – but when I heard him shriek the words “不要咬我的睾丸“, I knew that Poko had finally turned out to be useful…
Not only had he bitten through the softest and most sensitive portion of his master’s anatomy, he had achieved what I can only describe as a miracle – the near-cessation of sound from next door.
I fell asleep to the music of gentle sobbing that night – and in the morning, when Poko was shitting in my driveway once again, I rewarded him with a gentle scritching under the chin.
He gave me that weird look that dogs give you when you bother them when they’re pooping – but I could tell from the pattern his tiny little turds made that morning that he was, in his own way, wagging his tail with happiness.