One Fine Saturday At The Peak, Someone Kicked My Dog.

We haven’t been up to the Peak as a family in a very long time; before the Miss started pre-school and especially when Kings was away for many a weekend, I would spend a couple hours bringing JD up in between the children’s schedules at least once a week, but now JD and I do lunch and a walk twice a week.

When you don’t live in a country that has good weather every day (and 7s fans, we feel for you), everyone wants to be outside on a good day. “Everyone” by HK standards is A. Lot.

The parking lot at the highest point where we traditionally brought JD when it was just JD, where I napped in the grass for both pregnancies, is so clogged up with cars waiting for parking, cars trying to leave, that we want to turn back. Only problem is, we can’t get out either.

Guy driving car behind us gets out and tells Kings to move our car forward. I swear, the amount of space he felt it was necessary to get out of his car, walk up the slope maybe 8 feet and tell Kings to move forward was something like 6 inches.

The dad in the van two cars in front refuses to move his car. He’s staking out a parking space. Another guy comes out and starts arguing (politely……ish) that he has to move because no one can get in or out. Kings joins in, he who can swing Cantonese conversation like a native. They all agree on a certain stacking of vehicles while still glancing hopefully about for people about to leave. The other two cars move forward and appear to still be in discussion about parking, when the car nearest ours abruptly moves out. The owner must have just hopped in, there was no one there earlier.

Kings calls out an apology for taking the space (there is no way the car in front can reach it unless like, 6 cars move back for him), quickly slips in, and as we grab our kids and gear (the dog requiring no further assistance beyond opening the car door) we can hear them discussing how we’ve just taken a space. “They might demand we vacate the spot,” Kings mutters. True; Guy Who Held Everyone Up Because He Wouldn’t Leave Off Staking Out A Spot must be so pissed we got a spot.

“Think they’ll scratch our car?” Kings asks. Maybe. But it’s an old car. We still have the little beemer we bought second-hand before the kids, when we first got here and used to bring JD to obedience school in Sheung Shui (near China), plus for Agility competitions around HK every weekend. Silver lining, because if it was some new family vehicle like all these new(ish) parents of small kids have, we wouldn’t leave it 😀 (We leave in a bit over an hour, because both Mens, thanks to Rockstar, have mild colds and the evening got chilly pretty fast – at which point there’s slightly more spaces than cars and the entire congestion around all the spaces is completely gone.)

Up on the Peak, dog and kids obviously go totally crazy happy nuts.

(I like this one, it’s like your every cops and robbers hostage scene)

(The “gun” is actually an alarm clock – Kings found this alarm clock with a bullseye target on it, and in the morning you shoot at it to switch it off.)

A Rockstar-sized boy eyes JD sitting next to Miss and comes up to the dog happily. I assume he’s going to pet her, but quick as a flash and still with the pleased look on his face, he pulls his leg back and gives JD a hard kick in the rump.

“HEY!!! DON’T KICK MY DOG!!! WHERE ARE YOUR PARENTS???”

My yell is instinctive. Just as instinctive, his calm, completely unrepentant and immediate response: “Sorree.” I stare at him speechless, vaguely aware the 15-20 International School (their accents gave it away haha) youths standing nearby have fallen completely silent and are all staring. The little boy stands there looking up at me, completely unphased. Still pleased. He’s said he’s sorry, what’s my problem? Oh, that was a good kick, that was fun…!

As my eyes scan the people scattered on picnic cloths about the park, a woman looks up from a book and waves from about 20 feet away. “He’s mine. Sorry ’bout that…”

I let it slide only because I’m still speechless. We are in a dog-friendly area, there’s at least a dozen other canines of various shapes, sizes and hairdos all gamboling about,  HOW DID THAT KID GET THAT BIG AND STILL THINK IT’S OK, EVEN FUN, TO KICK DOGS? This is rhetoric of course, because his knee-jerk reaction of completely “politically correct” social response is really what disturbs me the most. This is not a child who doesn’t know it’s wrong to kick dogs. This is a child who knows exactly what the correct response is if he is caught.

The youths nearby are still speechless. They’re actually standing quite close to the boy’s mum, and from where I’m standing further away I can hear some of them saying things like, “That is so cruel…” Which is probably why the boy’s mum theatrically (and very mildly) lectures him on how kicking dogs is not the right thing to do. They could be on a stage and in costume.

Mum: Son, you should not kick dogs. It is the wrong thing to do.

Son: I understand now mother.

Mum: Next time don’t do this, son.

Son: Yes, mother. I shall not do this next time.

Mum: Now, let’s go and apologize to the dog.

Son: Yes, mother. I shall apologize to the dog. Sorry, Dog.

One is telling off her child due to everyone now looking at her and her child in disgust. The child absolutely knows this, and so he too is giving the socially expected response. She then leads the boy up to us which is when I have to keep from hurling. Her son is apologizing perfectly! Right answer! Perfect Parenting! Both have given the Absolute Correct Answers To Case Study. The group of youths slowly trails off noticeably subdued.

Until another very recent event, I hadn’t understood the real extent to which such young kids – 5, 6 years old – were capable of……… naughtiness. (Ok well I never looked at kids at all until I then went and had some. But you know, I’m not the only one – I was discussing this with other former banker girlfriends who’d just had kids and they were really OMG that is very, very scary. Who knew ok, we can snap at some of the nastiest market counterparts just fine, and we are just the biggest wusses about children.)

By any world standards, we live in an affluent area. These are not the neglected children of drug addicted parents or whatever. Both Little Shitty Dog Kicker’s parents are in attendance this day, plus helper probably. Not once does Little Shitty Dog Kicker lose his composure. He looks up into my eyes, and delivers all the correct responses.

What more do I want, right? His parents corrected him, what. Here’s my problem: Little Shitty Dog Kicker already knew he wasn’t supposed to kick dogs before he did it. AND he also knew his parents didn’t really mind. 

The other problem is if he did that to another dog and gets bitten, they are going to go absolutely batshit nuts, break out the meat cleavers and demand the “vicious animal” be put down.

(And what is all this bullshit staged theatrical correction of the child anyway. Know what? The only other kids your child is going to get to be friends with are other Shitty Little Dog Kickers and it’s what you so rightly deserve. Because the nice people who don’t like their children to kick dogs for real aren’t going to want their children to hang with yours. Different mum friends of different nationalities, going to different schools, explained this concept to me on several occasions – playdates are organized for mutual benefit of ALL the children. And please don’t misunderstand that I mean academics only – they mean if they think their child will have a good friend. So, fail to correct your child for real, and suffer them having no friends except other shitty little dog kickers (didn’t Ted Bundy start out this way?) I don’t mean for it to sound harsh, that’s cos some kid just kicked my dog, but it IS a reality – people may not be able to choose how your child behaves, but they can certainly choose whether to bring their own child to socialize with yours. This is the Law Of Natural Selection Of Playdate Mates. Thought for the week.)

So yeah, I’m still mad someone kicked my dog.