Next to their children, Hungarians love their pets unconditionally.
Budapest is inundated with dogs of all shapes and sizes – those shapes and sizes frequently reflecting a closer affinity to their owners than the size of apartment they are kept in! Whilst their country cousins may keep their dogs out in all weathers, housed in a simple kennel even in the middle of winter, Budapest pooch owners pamper their pets with trips to the cosmetician, and equip them with coats and even miniature Wellington boots, before subjecting them to the rain or snow of the city’s streets. Recent developments have seen somewhat less ‘dog rubber’ (kutyagumi) on the pavements and the ready availability both of plastic bags with which to collect it, and ‘toilets’ in which to deposit it.
Cats, too, are beloved by many, and I still remember the old lady who appeared nightly at the gates of the old Garay téri piac (market), where she fed the strays who waited on the other side.
More unusually, I watched in disbelief when I saw a man taking his goat for an early morning walk on Andrássy út, stopping to allow it to graze on the small bushes which bordered the pavement!
Yet stories abound of dog poisoning – invariably put down to the neighbours. When one of our cats had a suspected fracture we took her to the vet’s for an x-ray, only to be informed that she had three pellets in her – obviously the result of someone’s taking pot shots at her with an air rifle. But all in all, Hungarians reserve their greatest love for their adored pets – second to their children, of course.
Budapest is inundated with dogs of all shapes and sizes – those shapes and sizes frequently reflecting a closer affinity to their owners than the size of apartment they are kept in! Whilst their country cousins may keep their dogs out in all weathers, housed in a simple kennel even in the middle of winter, Budapest pooch owners pamper their pets with trips to the cosmetician, and equip them with coats and even miniature Wellington boots, before subjecting them to the rain or snow of the city’s streets. Recent developments have seen somewhat less ‘dog rubber’ (kutyagumi) on the pavements and the ready availability both of plastic bags with which to collect it, and ‘toilets’ in which to deposit it.
Cats, too, are beloved by many, and I still remember the old lady who appeared nightly at the gates of the old Garay téri piac (market), where she fed the strays who waited on the other side.
More unusually, I watched in disbelief when I saw a man taking his goat for an early morning walk on Andrássy út, stopping to allow it to graze on the small bushes which bordered the pavement!
Yet stories abound of dog poisoning – invariably put down to the neighbours. When one of our cats had a suspected fracture we took her to the vet’s for an x-ray, only to be informed that she had three pellets in her – obviously the result of someone’s taking pot shots at her with an air rifle. But all in all, Hungarians reserve their greatest love for their adored pets – second to their children, of course.
It is a sad truth then, that Hungarians dislike one another. They happily relate to newcomers and foreigners, a number of anecdotes to illustrate their profound antipathy to their fellow Magyars. For example: there is the well-known saying that if my cow dies, I also hope my neighbour’s cow will die. No Hungarian can bear to see their neighbour doing better than they are.
A blacker, and altogether more depressing version of the same idea is when a man descends to hell, only to see Satan watching the futile attempts of various groups from a number of nations, to make their escape from the fire and brimstone. A group of Russians clamber to the rim of the pit, but as they put their heads over the top, they are shot by the waiting soldiers above them. The Germans, also reaching the summit are greeted by shouting, threatening guards who order them back into the fires below, and being Germans (so the fable goes) they obey. Finally, the man sees a group of Hungarians, also intent on their escape. No guards threaten, no soldiers lie in wait to shoot them. Why then are they still in the smouldering pit? He turns to Satan and asks for some explanation. Satan says simply, ‘Watch.’
As the first of the Magyars scrambles to the top of the pit he is pulled back by those below him….
A blacker, and altogether more depressing version of the same idea is when a man descends to hell, only to see Satan watching the futile attempts of various groups from a number of nations, to make their escape from the fire and brimstone. A group of Russians clamber to the rim of the pit, but as they put their heads over the top, they are shot by the waiting soldiers above them. The Germans, also reaching the summit are greeted by shouting, threatening guards who order them back into the fires below, and being Germans (so the fable goes) they obey. Finally, the man sees a group of Hungarians, also intent on their escape. No guards threaten, no soldiers lie in wait to shoot them. Why then are they still in the smouldering pit? He turns to Satan and asks for some explanation. Satan says simply, ‘Watch.’
As the first of the Magyars scrambles to the top of the pit he is pulled back by those below him….
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