I don’t have a picture of this, my camera batteries have an unerring ability to discern when there’s a photo opportunity and promptly die, but trust me, I had a Tornado in my backyard that looked very much like this one.
It’s peculiar in a country such as South Africa that huskies are so popular, but there you are. They’re gorgeous dogs, let’s not beat about the bush, but my theory is the monumental howling that goes up when they are disturbed makes them the ideal dog for a crime-ridden country such as this.
Tornado somehow bashed his way into my backyard by pushing through a lock drilled into cement and proceeded to hurtle around my garden in distress. He seemed to be trying to get over the neighbouring fence, which happens to belong to someone who also “breeds” huskies. Not one of my dogs, she claimed when she finally emerged from her house after a fair amount of rattling the gate and calling.
Never mind. A call to my local police station brought a man and a van and he knew exactly who the dog belonged to, due to the odd coloured eyes. Joey, the local traffic official arrived shortly thereafter with his little son, a collar and a lead, and Tornado’s fun day out ended with a scolding and a heartfelt thank you.
It turned out that Tornado was born next door, but the “breeder” keeps no records, does not know what a microchip is and has little interest in where her dogs’ offspring end up. We have a saying in this town “I don’t want to talk bad about so-and-so, BUT …”
I don’t want to talk bad about husky puppy mill breeders, but …