Free Web NovelChapter 444: Chapter 444: The Sheepdog and the Scholar_1
"What splendid weather we have today, after two days of rain we finally have sunshine," the merchant remarked in a casual manner, "I’m sorry to intrude, but when did you return home?"
"I came back the day before yesterday, this time I was invited to attend an old friend’s son’s wedding, they live in Lundale," Mr. Katch replied.
"The day before yesterday? I haven’t seen you around," the merchant expressed in surprise.
"I haven’t been out much these two days, and I’ve been going to bed early," Mr. Katch said with a friendly smile.
"Did it go with you?" the merchant glanced at the shepherd dog.
"Yes, I’m used to having it follow me."
The merchant nodded in admiration, "I envy you, indeed, a military dog is unlike mine... hey, Cargot, sit down and behave! Idiot, are you trying to trip me up?"
The hunting dog the merchant was leading was acting very unsettled, creeping behind him and tucking in its tail and head in a completely submissive manner.
Mr. Katch and he were neighbors, not immediately next to each other’s villas, but their yards did abut.
Mr. Katch had moved over from the north about two years before, proclaiming himself to be a language professor who had taught at a university, but he had since resigned to focus on writing. He indeed possessed the scholarly demeanor typical of an academic, yet unlike other scholars who prefer seclusion, he was often absent from home, traveling to gather material for his work.
This refined middle-aged man actually lived alone in a detached villa, accompanied only by a dog. Aside from the occasional hiring of a maid for cleaning, the merchant had not seen others visiting.
Regarding the other’s family life, the merchant had never broached the subject in their conversations; such topics could be sensitive for a wealthy man living alone, so he wisely chose to avoid them.
But that didn’t stop other inquisitive people from making inquiries. He had heard from inquiries of other neighbors that Mr. Katch claimed his son had died young, and that he had divorced not long after. The merchant’s family was content, but he sometimes envied the other’s freedom—of course, he would never actually want to trade his family circumstances, even if it killed him.
However, there was one thing he truly envied a lot, and that was Mr. Katch’s shepherd dog. The dog’s coat was not purebred, but it was extremely empathetic, not barking or running around unnecessarily, only quietly following by its master’s side. And it was extremely intelligent, able to understand human language, with Mr. Katch often talking to it—of course, dogs can’t speak human speech, but this shepherd dog knew how to respond with nods and head shakes.
According to Mr. Katch himself, this was a retired military dog entrusted to him by a military officer friend. The dog wasn’t very large and had never shown any aggression, but for some reason, the merchant found that his own hunting dog, Cargot, was particularly afraid of it.
Cargot was not any smaller and was combative, often barking at larger dogs, but in front of Mr. Katch’s shepherd dog, it acted like a scared cat, either turning tail to run or hiding behind its owner with tail tucked.
In fact, it wasn’t just Cargot; the merchant had occasionally noticed other dogs behaving submissively around this shepherd dog, as if there were some sort of unspoken hierarchy that humans couldn’t understand.
"You have a great relationship with it, how should I put it... it’s like you have some kind of spiritual connection. I don’t know how the military trains them," the merchant continued to click his tongue in praise, dog ownership being one of the few topics he had in common with his scholarly neighbor.
"Yes, my old friend in the military also received it fully trained, I don’t know the details," Mr. Katch smiled and nodded.
After a few more insipid exchanges, the merchant brought up Mr. Katch’s recent display of generosity.
"Ah, Mr. Katch, although it may sound a bit heartless to say this," the merchant glanced at a beggar not far away, lowering his voice so as not to be overheard, "frankly, I think it’s rather inappropriate to give money to these refugees here."
"They’re just a bunch of poor souls without a home, and all I did was give them some small change."
"I mean, it’s not quite appropriate ’here.’ You don’t know how many begging refugees have appeared on the streets during the more than a month you’ve been away. Last month, someone went door-to-door asking for money in our area. With nobody at your place, he just kept shouting, really, like a ghost!" the wealthy merchant started to vent, "Do you think this money should be given? These refugees are like wolves that can’t be fed! Giving in too easily will only attract more beggars here."
"Is that so?" Mr. Katch nodded thoughtfully, "It seems I haven’t considered this well enough."
"I used to sympathize with them too, but then I realized, these people aren’t worth the sympathy. They’re lazy and good for nothing, always begging, hardly a few who know how to properly work. A friend of mine who has a store in the south of the city was robbed of his briefcase on the road just last week. It was done by the refugees!"
"You can’t make generalizations like that. If their homeland hadn’t been destroyed, who wouldn’t want to live a life of dignity?" Mr. Katch offered a different view, "With the unemployment rate so high recently, even if they want to work, there aren’t that many positions for so many people."
"Shouldn’t they defend their own homeland when it’s in trouble, instead of running to another country and living at the mercy of others? How can others respect them then? Hmph!" the wealthy merchant scoffed, parroting a line he’d picked up from commentators in the newspapers.
"Citizens of a great nation always find it hard to understand the plight of smaller ones, not every country has the strength to maintain its dignity, and for some nations, shedding their pride is inconsequential as it’s their means of survival in the cracks," Mr. Katch shook his head, "Besides, haven’t you heard about the role Kingdom played in this war?"
"Who knows if that’s true? Conspiracy theories cannot be fully believed, maybe it’s just a rumor fabricated by the Republicans," the wealthy merchant stubbornly held his view.
"That’s true," Mr. Katch easily concurred once more. frёewebnoѵēl.com
Rather than agreeing with the other’s opinion, it was more that he had no intention of debating political topics with a neighbor.
At that moment, his sheepdog gently bit his trouser leg and tugged at it.
"Excuse me, I must be going. The shops will close if I’m any later," Mr. Katch doffed his hat in farewell.
"Certainly, let’s have a drink sometime," the wealthy merchant said, merely as a courtesy.
This polite invitation had been made many times but had never actually been fulfilled; he could sense Mr. Katch’s solitary nature, an aura that seemed uninterested in forming deep connections with people.
"Certainly, if there’s a chance," Mr. Katch said as he walked away.
Having barely taken a few steps, a young gentleman who was turning his head to admire the sunset with his wife nearly bumped into him, but luckily Mr. Katch’s sheepdog barked in time.
"Oh, sorry sir, I wasn’t watching where I was going," the young man stopped in time and immediately apologized.
"No harm done, I wasn’t paying attention," Mr. Katch expertly replied and, sidestepping the other, continued on his way.
Same as always... the wealthy merchant shook his head.
For some reason, Mr. Katch always seemed to have such a faint presence; people lost in thought on the street often failed to notice him, and sometimes even the wealthy merchant himself would be sunbathing in his courtyard and suddenly realize that Mr. Katch had been sitting on the other side of the hedge all along, as quiet as a tree.
With his slender figure slowly disappearing into the distance accompanied by his sheepdog, it only took a turn for the wealthy merchant to forget this chance encounter.
