Honestly, the size of his balls made me the most nervous. This was no tame mutt but a wild pack leader submitted to no one. Nipping at my heels he embodied all my feelings about being in this spot in the first place: I hated package tours.
When I travel I make plans like outlines—hoping the details are surprising moments with a large dose of acculturation flavor. Though technically a tourist I dislike acting as one and package tours are the epitome of all I eschew in travel. On this sticky Thai day I had acquiesced to my local friend’s wishes, appeasing her guilt in being unable to take off work to personally show me around and her inability to believe that just wandering the streets of Bangkok finding unexpected sights would satisfy me immensely.
The tour left at an ungodly hour from a local hotel and promised a ride through the floating market and a trip to an elephant show. After hours in nauseating morning traffic I knew the fine print included being herded into the path of vendors whose wares and services promised to significantly increase the cost of the already expensive all-inclusive day trip, so instead of following the dutiful crowd of my fellow simpletons when the opportunity to browse came I struck off outside of the main market area hoping to find some authentic flavor.
The narrow stone bridge beckoned and I eagerly headed toward the modest ramshackle dwellings most likely empty of the very vendors I sought to avoid. My sense of direction allowed me to explore without fear of finding my way back and several blocks further on my spirits had lifted to the point where I thought the day might not be a waste after all.
Enter the dog king. Usually I enjoy local wildlife. But this mutt made me nervous. He ran straight for me across an empty lot as I passed. Of no particular breeding, his short blonde hair and wiry build combined with a few scars in non-lethal places spoke of a confident survivor. I already mentioned his balls. Seriously. Prominent. At first he just followed closely at my heels. I had a water bottle but dreaded using it—in a fight I was pretty sure he would win. The few Thai phrases I knew did not include “go away” or “bad doggie”. Occasionally he nipped at my heels but without making contact. Was this his way of establishing dominance? I didn’t really want to know, I just wanted him to go away. The whole stay-with-the-group began to gain some appeal.
Walking at my normal confident stride I hoped he would get bored and wander off. That’s when things went further south. Turning my steps back towards the market I suddenly saw a pack of about five dogs spot me and race across a bridge in my direction. Visions of me bandaged in a local hospital, rabies vaccines, stitches, tropical diseases, among other worst-case scenarios flashed through my head.
At that moment the dog king proved his balls: he single-handedly chased off the entire pack, establishing his claim to me and their defeat. We walked on, him at my heels, me grateful yet still slightly uneasy. I finally lost him at the stone bridge—a worker yelled at him as I crossed—and I gladly rejoined my placid group. While staying with the group can be the safe way to go, the best stories lie off the beaten path. I’ve never done a package tour again.
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