Dog day afternoon

I'VE ALWAYS seen in the mangy mongrel dogs of Indonesia, parallels with human beings. The younger ones – the puppies and those equivalent to canine teenagers – while often still incapacitated by some horrid disease, parasite or disfigurement still cling to the hope that there is good in the world and promise for the future. You can see it in their eyes. These Indonesian puppies, they roam around searching for rotting scraps of food in gutters and on the beach, same as their older, crustier compradres. But there's a spring in their step, a youthful exuberance and those innocent eyes. If you get a chance take a close look and you'll see. They are too young to comprehend the dire situation they're in – that chances are they'll either perish after a slow painful death from their numerous ailments or be hit by a speeding car or motorbike and be left to die a lonely death in a ditch somewhere.

So these puppies, they trot around without a care in the world, playfighting with the other dogs and chasing crabs on the beach. But at a certain point, I'm guessing when they reach the age of about twenty-eight to thirty-five in dog years, they become resigned to the fact that they're fucked. That spring in their step is replaced by aching bones, debilitating skin conditions and major organs shutting down from years of neglect and a tough life on the street. After being trodden on by people and life itself for so long they begin to realise it's all downhill from here and all hope for a better life is lost. And in their sullen, glassy eyes you can see an infinite sadness. It's probably the reason they won't even bat an eyelid, let alone move out the way when you're tearing towards them on your motorbike at eighty clicks an hour. They just don't give a shit anymore.

It's the same with humans. I reckon these older dogs that have given up are much like the guy in his 30s or 40s who is stuck in a mundane job and a lifeless marriage and looks around at his mates wondering how he ended up with such a sorry bunch. His best years, his carefree and fun-filled 20s, are behind him and he knows it. You'll find those same depressing eyes on the drunken heads of countless men at the local pub or TAB on any given night. Here's hoping I've still got a fair few puppy years left in me.

On a lighter note, here are some happy snaps from the first couple of weeks in Indo: