Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven : The Dog Who Hated Noise

Topsy had a very simple rule about people.

He was perfectly fine with them.

But there was one condition.

They had to behave themselves.

He didn't mind our relatives coming to the house. He didn't bark at Nani's friends. He wasn't the kind of dog who would jump on someone and attack them. However, he became suspicious at first, but then he would calm down.

In fact, most of the time, he seemed perfectly comfortable around people.

But noisy children?

That was a completely different matter.

Whenever children came running around, shouting and making a lot of noise, Topsy would immediately become alert.

His ears would rise.

He would look toward them.

And then—

BARK!

It was as though he had suddenly been appointed the official noise inspector of the neighbourhood.

The children would continue running.

Topsy would bark again.

And somehow, the more excited they became, the more seriously he took his job.

Sometimes I feared that he would hurt children.

At first, I couldn't understand him.

I thought maybe he didn't like children.

Perhaps he was uncomfortable around them.

Maybe he didn't trust them.

But there was something that didn't quite fit that explanation.

Because Topsy never behaved like that around every child.

One day, I brought a child home with me.

She was quiet and gentle.

She didn't run through the house.

She didn't scream.

She didn't make loud noises.

When Topsy saw her, he walked over.

He looked at her carefully.

Then he sniffed her.

For a moment, he seemed to be inspecting his new guest.

And then he simply walked away.

That's it.

No barking.

No angry reaction.

Nothing.

Even a few minutes later, he played with her in a gentle manner."

I watched him, slightly surprised.

And suddenly, everything became clear.

Topsy didn't hate children.

He hated noise.

That was his problem.

A quiet child could be stand right beside him and play with him; he wouldn't care.

But a group of children running around and shouting?

That was apparently unacceptable.

Topsy had his standards.

And he was very serious about them.

It was actually funny because Topsy himself was hardly the quietest member of our household.

He could bark when he wanted attention.

He could run around the house.

He could make his presence known whenever the family was sitting together.

But apparently, there was a difference between his noise and everyone else's.

His noise was necessary.

Everyone else's noise was disturbing his peace.

At least, that seemed to be his logic.

Sometimes I would watch him barking at noisy children and wonder what exactly he thought he was accomplishing.

Was he warning them?

Was he asking them to calm down?

Was he simply complaining?

We never really knew.

But he certainly made his opinion clear.

And despite all his barking, there was something we knew for sure.

Topsy was never a dangerous dog.

He never bit anyone in our family.

He never deliberately hurt the children he barked at.

He simply didn't like the chaos.

He wanted people to keep their distance and, preferably, their volume down.

It was almost like he had his own idea of what a peaceful home should sound like.

And once we understood that about him, his behaviour became much easier to understand.

If someone came quietly, Topsy was usually fine.

If someone came running and shouting, Topsy had something to say about it.

A lot to say about it.

Very loudly.

He had his own personality, and we gradually learned all its little details.

That was one of the funny things about living with Topsy.

You didn't just have a dog.

You had a dog with opinions.

Strong opinions.

Opinions about walks.

Opinions about who should be included when the family sat together.

Opinions about the people making too much noise.

And apparently, opinions that needed to be announced immediately.

Sometimes I think Topsy believed the house belonged to him.

Maybe he wasn't wrong.

He had his favourite places.

He knew every member of the family.

He knew who fed him.

He knew who took him for walks.

He knew who played with him.

And he definitely knew who was making too much noise.

He was our little watchdog, but not in the usual sense.

He wasn't guarding us from some great danger.

He was guarding the peace and quiet of the household.

At least, according to Topsy.

And whenever a noisy child appeared, he was ready to do his duty.

One bark.

Then another.

And perhaps, if necessary, a few more for good measure.

Because Topsy had made up his mind.

Children were welcome.

Noise was not.