A Caucasian Ovcharka always defends its honour. As dogs we just don’t defend and protect our territories, we are actually more concerned with defending our honour.
A dog’s bone collection is a matter of honour for him. He doesn’t just collect bones, so he can be a dog in the manger – it is not a hands-off-it-belongs-to-me collection. It is not a something-to-do-when-I’m-bored collection. And it is certainly not a smelly-stinking-nasty-pieces collection.
A dog’s bone collection is a compilation of rare, carefully chosen, properly cleaned and chiselled bones. And they are above all carefully preserved and kept out of harm’s reach.
Like every good collection, it is never compiled in one day, or one week, or one month or even one year. Bone collection and preservation is a time-consuming work. It takes time. It requires distinct discerning abilities – a dog must know which bone to collect and keep.
Not every bone is meant to be kept. Bones that will decompose and rot are never part of the collection. Only the strongest bones make it into the collector’s vault.
I take my time explaining this to you all because I need you to understand my next action and to realise that it is not an act of malice or stupidity – It is a matter of HONOUR!
Mistress dared to touch my bone collection.
Not only did she touch it, she got rid of it. Atrocious!
I’ve lived in this yard with Master for over three years and not even once in those years did he trespass my territory or interfere with my bones and my rare collection.
But in just one evening, years of hard work and precision is tossed out like a box of nothingness.
This is unacceptable. No dog can accept unless he is a wimp… and Libeck is no wimp.
I ambled towards the back of the house. I moved slowly, purposefully and conscientiously. It had taken me a sleepless night to meditate and decide on this.
I saw the clothes, right there where I’d expected them to be. I growled… with pleasure.
Without hesitation I made for them, galloping on my paws and panting with excitement. One pounce and tug, a string of clothes fell off the rope and landed right in front of me.
I attacked them. Bit into them with my teeth. Ferociously dragged and pulled them from every end that my teeth could reach.
Their ripping and shredding sounds filled me with indescribable delight. I growled and sniffed and barked and… tugged even harder.
“What the heck are you doing?” Lemon demanded, hissing menacingly.
I raised my head slowly, the feline witch was standing just at the curve of the house, staring at me with wide green eyes. She looked dazed, even as she hissed.
I dropped the shredded and unrecognisable… whatever I had between my teeth. “What do you see me doing?” I snarled.
“Are those Mistress’s clothes?” Lemon approached my position with cautious steps.
“Are you here to take them in for her?” I taunted, bending over to pull at the… skirt I believe… lying by my left front paw.
The ripping sound grated lemon’s ears and she growled… wildly.
“You dare to touch my Mistress’s clothes? And rip them apart?” Lemon hissed at me, eyes glittering with fury.
I grinned, showing my teeth menacingly. “She dared to touch my bone collection and tossed it out.” I growled, ripping another clothing.
“She was cleaning up the yard, you dirty filthy animal.” Lemon growled, galloping towards me.
“She can clean the yard but she dares not touch my box of bones, you feline, treacherous witch.” I snarled wildly, stomping the clothes before me with my paws.
Shrieking wildly, Lemon flew over my head and grabbed at the clothes on the other rope, pulling two of them down as she tugged.
“If you rip my Mistress’s clothes, I will rip your Master’s clothes.” She threatened, flashing her green eyes at me.
I stared at her for a minute – puffing, growling and considering.
With a swipe I ripped again what was left of the red dress.
Growling and hissing at the same time, Lemon bent over and pulled Master’s blue shirt. A ripping sound followed her pull and with it the now apart long sleeve.
I dashed back to the rope and made another pounce and more clothes followed my teeth. I bit into them, watching Lemon through narrowed dark brown eyes.
Lemon repeated her earlier flight towards the rope and this time pulled down Master’s gray shorts and white shirt. She placed her paws on them to hold them fast and watching me through menacing green eyes, shred them into several distorted parts.
Ha, so she wanted war. I pounced on clothes after clothes and ripped dress, skirts, shimmery blouses and odd-looking tiny clothing. It was a nonstop battle.
The entire yard was vibrating with our wild growls, shrieks, hissing and panting sounds.
That must have alerted Mistress, for she soon called out in that annoying screeching voice of hers.
Neither of us lifted our heads from our vigorous task.
Her strutting footsteps drawing closer and closer did not stop us either.
“LEMON!” Mistress cried. “LIBECK!”
Her voice was so close I had to raise my head. She was at the kitchen door, mouth agape, eyes widened till they were almost popping out.
“What are you two doing?” She shrieked marching towards us.
I growled menacingly.
Lemon looked up at me and growled back.
I moved my left paw forward.
Lemon hissed and with one swift movement, dashed into the air and flew over Mistress’s head.
I struck her down even before she could land on me.
Mistress screamed at the top of her voice and with hands flaring wildly at her sides.
Her speed of lightening retreat surprised us causing us to stare after her in puzzling glee, the battle of honour abandoned.