There are heaps of little kids that run around the complex.
Sometimes, when Mom and I take a stroll around the place a kid will run off shrieking when they see me.
How rude.
It is not as if I am an ugly hound… I am rather easy on the eye.
Dwala, our little neighbour, is most impressed with me.
When she spots me she comes charging up and tentatively pats my head – she’s tiny so this gives her huge street cred.
I’m not overly fond of being patted on the head but I put on my big girl furry knickers, suck it up and deal.
Just like Mom has to do when Dwala spots her in the local shop and screeches out “Fudgie’s Mom!” by way of greeting.
Whenever we walk past those little tykes Mom says… Don’t worry.
Fudges wouldn’t hurt a fly.
Technically this is a fat lie – I hate flies and crunch them between my fearsome fangs whenever I get the chance… but I digress.
Sometimes they keep running, but other times they cautiously approach.
I smile at them.
Then they run off yelling… Yoh! Check out those teeettthhhh.
Mom tut-tuts and tells me to be nice.
What?
Am just avoiding having my head patted even more.
But then they started knocking on the door.
Ems!
Mom yells – your fans await.
Em has befriended all the complex girls and is teaching them to hula-hoop.
Some of them are even quite good now.
They drive me and Mom crazy when they climb on the wall, peep over the balcony and ask Mom to call Em.
She tells them to knock on the garage door where Em hangs out – making her cutie dolls.
So the same thing happened this afternoon.
Mom yelled for Em.
Em came out onto the stoep, smirking.
Fudgie’s fans await… she retorted.
Mom went to the door.
Sure enough – three little boys stood there asking to see me.
Fudges… Mom called.
I strolled out.
They patted my head.
I smiled at them.
Sadly it seems the teeth trick no longer works.
They know I am a friendly Fudgie-wena.
They asked me if I would like to play ball.
Stupid question.
Of course you can.
Come on in!
