Frans Amsterdam: Bobby the pub dog from Wonderful 2 Bar

Bobby is the dog of the Wonderful 2 Bar. He is already quite old, 20 years old. Usually he is sleeping, or following the scenes in Soi 13.

In the years that I have known him, he has gained a lot of weight and has had more and more trouble getting up, walking, and lying down again. He also knows that things are not going to be that easy anymore. When he has to climb the two steps to the bar from the street, he first stops, encourages himself and then takes the leap up. More and more often he doesn't even make it all the way to the first step and has to struggle wildly with all four legs to keep from sliding back down. Eventually he will get there, with pain and effort. Then he glances back at the two steps as if to say, "Crap!"

He carefully looks for a suitable spot, because once he has lowered himself through his legs, it is quite a task to get up again. If he has to step aside, he prefers to be dragged away. That goes quite smoothly, over the smooth tiles.

Bobby doesn't have a real owner. This has the advantage that he does not have to listen to anyone. He doesn't do tricks, not for anyone. I don't think anyone ever taught him tricks. He has been taught in one way or another when he has to take action and defend his territory. Of course he has to tolerate customers and staff, and street vendors too, but shabbily dressed hobo types are undesirable. How he makes the distinction is a complete mystery to me, but he does it flawlessly.

When one approaches, he straightens up immediately, despite his physical discomfort, and runs barking in the direction of the unwanted person. He stays neatly on the grounds of the bar, but at the same time walks along with the unsavory type, until it is completely over. Sometimes someone does not dare to walk further and stops. The staff must then make it clear that walking through is the only solution. Bobby does not become quiet again until the person in question is at least fifty meters from the bar. Then he walks back to where he lay, shaking his head, or collapses somewhere else, satisfied.

Late last night, actually early this morning, such a case came up. Dusty slippers, ragged unwashed trousers, an oversized shirt, half open, and an unshaven head with a cap. Plus a plastic bag on the belt of the trousers. That's pretty much his target audience. He does not hesitate for a moment and the guests present are amazed at the fierceness with which he rages.

The man became quite annoyed with Bobby's performance. Instead of walking, he walked over to Bobby and gave him a firm kick in the head. The barking mingled with a ferocious howl, Bobby did walk out into the street now, but after another kick he was knocked out and the girls had to carry him back.

The man thought he should now also verbally reinforce his displeasure and that was enough. A male member of the bar's management, athletic type and still in the prime of his life, got involved. They couldn't talk, the bartender armed himself with a broomstick, Allied troops poured in from neighboring establishments and the man received a merciless beating, including beatings like I've only seen on movies from the Arab world.

It all happened very fast and I was too late to make a movie of it, although that was also because I wondered if it was wise to capture this scene. After some time it had apparently been enough and the man was helped back on his feet. The bartender continued to talk to him for another fifteen minutes, after which the man stumbled back in the direction from which he had come.

It was some time before Bobby woke up from his coma and moved a few feet. Loud cheers and applause from those present. His water bowl was taken from under the pool table, he didn't have to walk any further. His collar had broken and his neck and jaw were swollen. Three barbecue sticks of meat were lovingly fed to him. A pill, I think against infection, because there was also some blood running from one leg, took a little more effort, but Bobby didn't offer much resistance.

Shortly after an hour, the man reappeared. Brandishing a fishing rod and a half liter bottle of beer. Another force majeure formed. This time it was just talking. He disappeared again, but the cold had not yet vanished. In the meantime, the authorities apparently had gotten wind of the incident. The Allied forces involved were discreetly invited to assemble across Second Road, where a lengthy meeting was held. The victim appeared for the third time this evening, he had now changed into clean red sportswear, was accompanied by a friend and had the casting rod with him again. They also took part in the meeting, it never ended. It was a quarter past three before everyone was sent off.

Bobby got up, took the two steps down, crossed the street and disappeared towards Soi 13/1. That's a bit of a steady walk for him around this time. I suspect he has a girlfriend there…

– Reposted message in memory of Frans Amsterdam –