The Hostage

On a hot and humid July morning, Coco decided to be defiant. For the benefit of those not familiar with who Coco is, she is a three-year-old golden retriever, our dog-daughter. That morning, after the customary stopover on the grass patch just outside the condominium complex, she began scurrying and bouncing about. The dog collar was attached to a retractable leash. I was holding on at the other end. Her frantic activity came to a halt only when the chameleon she had been chasing was clasped firmly by its tail.

Upon the triumphant capture, the retriever stood over it, hyperventilating. Coco’s head descended towards it and she began sniffing the slender body. Unharmed but terrified, the girgit strained his neck upwards pleading to be let off. On earlier occasions, Coco had chased frogs, squirrels, mongooses but never once managed to get one under her control. She had reason to take her time.

Coco is of a pliable and predictable disposition. She responds to gentle tugs and human gestures for compliance. Today, with the object of her amazement at such close quarters, there was a sense of unmissable accomplishment. Cute and furry only a moment earlier, she looked menacing stooping over Mr. Chameleon. Horrified at the prospect of Coco gobbling up her captive, I tugged vigorously at her leash, tried to coax her, even fake threatened to leave her and go back home. I could almost hear her think "Hollow threat, mom. As though you would."

To me, time stretched on for eternity. I became aware of the attention she had drawn to us from passers - morning walkers, car cleaners, maids arriving on duty. Her refusal to budge was becoming a tad bit embarrassing but I was genuinely intrigued. Mr. Chameleon held his yoga pose resolutely and even opened his little mouth. Was he trying to bare his teeth intimidatingly at the giant that stood over him or was it an extension of his plea, I really couldn't tell? 

I would have reached out for my phone, to take a picture, had I not felt sorry for the captive reptile. I even felt a twinge of guilt. Was I was not abetting this hijack? Was I not partially responsible for Mr. Chameleon's plight in a hostage situation?

Coco relinquished ownership of the desperate creature. She took her foot off the twig-like tail and moved away from it. Pleas for release had not fallen on deaf ears. In the seconds that followed, Mr. Chameleon lay on the grass frozen in shock, thanked his lucky stars, and then sped to safety towards the bushes. Even though she had willingly given up her claim and granted the gecko cousin his freedom, Coco fretted over her decision. She emitted sounds unfamiliar to me that conveyed her dissent of authority and regret at having succumbed to the call of her conscience. It took a great many ounces of patience and motherly love to get her to focus on the purpose at hand-The Morning Walk. She dawdled with expressed reluctance that matched my unexpressed disapproval at the recent display of impetuousness.

There is no way to know if the dog and the reptile will ever cross paths again but after today, there is one thing we can be certain of. Those innocence-laden eyes of hers will be looking to make more mischief. Another day, another hostage.