Njuki Moments

Wednesday, November 30, 2011

The land of thirteen months of sunshine

When I heard that line being used,of thirteen months of sunshine, I thought to myself,wow some creative marketing! And yet again so how corny!
They have even increased the months in a year!
Till I visited Addis-Ababa.
There, from fireside stories of a friend I made there,I was educated about the history and the present of Abyssinia.
I sat there,on a small kitchen stool,the one they use to cook that all black coffee that you then take in miniature cups,that coffee which you have to smell before they crush and mix it.
That coffee whose flavor is is in its thickness,and for lack of a good word,bitterness. But Iam not a coffee connoisseur,and a few days drinking coffee do not make me one.
So there I sat,prodding the fire and waving away the smoke,once in a while looking at her small hands,lifting the lid,checking the kettle,checking if the coffee is brewing well,and whether it is time for us to get out the miniature cups and taste the brew.

I was told about the Ten commandments,and how one tablet,or is both tabs are in Ethiopia. About the rock-hewn cathedrals of Lalibela(which I will visit the next time I visit) and those wars of conquering and perfected scorched earth policy and how the warriors perfected the art of survival by feasting on raw meat.

There, in front of that disturbing smoke,whose presence you however miss if you are in front of a hearth,I was told,nay, educated about the Ethiopian calendar,how Ethiopia was never colonized by Zionist forces as Idi Amin would say, and there i attempted to learn Amharic.I still remember a few words,and the truth that there are actually thirteen months in the Ethiopian calendar. Days start at what we'd call 6am, and the evening starts at 6pm. So you wont have 4.00 am in the morning. In Ethiopia, the morning is in the morning, and the night is at night.

I got the name even,I mean of the thirteenth month,it is called Ṗagʷəmen (ጳጐሜን/ጳጉሜ);or Ṗagume according to my Bantu tongue.
You should hear it roll off my tongue. I was almost spanked and derided for failing to get that pronunciation; and that Pagume has five days. True story.
Then I realized just how much beauty was there to take in. I mean they even get paid a full month in Pagume.

When my plane landed at Bole airport. It was evening. It was winter,they told me.Yes,winter a few hours flight away from sunny Uganda. It was misty and as I collected my luggage I could see people,a lot of people, holding flowers.That confirmed I had truly come to a new land. Who carries flowers to pick someone from the airport!
Well, not in Uganda.
But they were not there to show off,or to pull some fast move as a guy would, if he wanted to impress a new girl. I surely would know that the first time if I saw one.
No,it was not to show off.It was with genuine affection and this glorious innocence.

That is what welcomed me to Addis Ababa,and oh yeah that double peck on the cheek,even by people I was meeting for the first time. People who had gone through life not knowing a particular random guy like me existed. And I did not need to be told,I just knew it is a way of life,I was among friends,among friendly people.

It is this friendliness which comes with beauty that had me fight a tinge of green jealousy. Oh my God.These people are beautiful. I say this affectionately,as one who lived with them for days.
Here are lovely,delicate,almost innocent beauties in their glory. They move around with a regal air, as f they are being tended to and when they smile,even effortlessly,the room glows. When one smiled,the chilly airport illuminated. Iam not trying to pull a fast one. I don't even remember her name. But I remember the smile.

The guys are picture perfect. I mean. That is why I was jealous.Men are supposed to be rough.They are meant to have rough edges and huge noses and if they appear even a little beautiful,yes ,beautiful,then they should be dwarfs to compensate for invading female territory.
Not in Addis.The guys are equally beautiful.Yet nice and friendly.Now you know why I could have been eaten by envy.

I lived here for days,speaking Luganda with colleagues and laughing in Amharic. Ha ha! and eating injera,with spiced lamb and when my stomach could not cope enough,my host was kind enough to take me to a tourist restaurant.

One day,while I was going through my mail at the Hilton cafe', I met someone important.The Ambassador of Uganda to Ethiopia. He recognized us fast,maybe because there are not that many dark people in Addis Ababa.So he asks us where we are from. We reply ,Uganda. He is pleasantly surprised.
He asks us what we are doing in Addis. To celebrate the new year,we respond. He must have taken us for spoiled young men. I mean,this is September!
But yet,that was the truth. Ethiopian year,yes with all its thirteen months, ends in September,I mean September according to our calendar. In fact I was there to usher in the new millennium.Yes, the new millennium has met me twice,once in December the year 2,000 in Uganda and in September 2008 in the Queen of Sheba's land.

I highly suspect this Biblical history like the beautiful Queen of Sheba and how she wowed King Solomon when she visited his palace is the source of all the present day magic of the place.
It is this magic that I rode till the end. Drinking beer in test tubes and two- liter beer mugs in full view of the brewery. Dancing to new year oldies at Sheraton Addis and nearly being kicked in the mouth by this damsel on the dance floor.

I sang with children and skipped over fire in a new year celebration. I almost dislocated a shoulder doing the eskista.

I watched the sun come out before end of bedtime. I breathed in the spirit of a new year. I drank more St.George beer and despite my six hour flight delay,I shall surely return.

Help, my boss is my junior

Without asking, every employee gets to the new job expecting bosses to be older, juniors to be younger. We have been used to that play where older people than us are more qualified and have more skills and therefore tend to be promoted more than us.
The trend has changed though. You may find that your boss is actually your junior in age; of you walk into new employment to realize you are the youngest in age and more senior in rank. What do you do?
Employers are increasingly taking a liking for qualified young people. MBAs which took years to complete can now be easily completed by energetic and bright young people. When they come to work, they know what to do, they have the drive, the ambition of youth and they are not tied down by age-old ways of doing things.
But also because more countries are pushing retirement age up(we have had our own debates here) you are likely to have your parents’ age mates for work colleagues, some who may have failed to adopt to the use of computers still preferring wash -out to the delete function key.
A lot of people look forward to retirement, but a lot of times one retires and they have nothing to do. Age old traditions and ethic are suddenly redundant and your body clock fails to adjust. In a lot of cases, these people may resume work, a lot of times in consulting.
Have you watched Morning Glory? You should. Older guys can be hard to manage.

So, then there you are trying to manage this 'younger boss, older employee' work politics.
Do you read Forbes Magazine?
You should. But then why should you when you read this blog! I have quoted here.

Here we go:According to Forbes Magazine, the generations' different work styles and perceptions of each other can create many challenges. One of them is the perceived difference in work ethic. For instance, older workers tend to believe in face time at the office. "They show up early, work through lunch and on the weekends," says Linda Gravett, co-author of Bridging the Generation Gap.
Your average junior executive on the other hand was raised in the Internet era, where it doesn't necessarily matter where the work gets done, as long as it does."
These days we even have people working from home and getting paid better than those who wear suits to work.Bloggers for example.

Therefore you will notice older employees coming to work at 7.30am and leaving shortly after 5.00pm while the younger ones will come in at 9.30 am and won’t mind staying at work longer, given as they may not necessarily have family commitments yet. As the leader you are going to have to manage both these groups with their attitudes and work ethic.
Another difference: Older workers are used to meeting more regularly to discuss projects and goals, whereas younger bosses are more likely to hand an employee a project and let that person run with it. "The communication styles are different," says Robin Throckmorton, co-author of Bridging the Generation Gap. "Younger bosses tend to say, 'Shoot me an e-mail.'"
Know that you have earned your role
With such dynamics in play, you are likely to feel intimidated by the age-politics. However, you need to believe in yourself. Know that you have earned your role and much as they may be senior in age, you are their leader and they need to be mindful of that. Don’t question your own authority. Older employees are not your parents, in fact they need to get used to you telling them what to do. That is your job.
However, do this without delineating them and try your best to keep them as part of the team where they feel they belong are assets to the team.
Encourage participatory problem solving and feedback
A lot of times, this type of older employee will know a lot and have a wealth of experience. Tap into it. Encourage participatory play at work. It is doubly troubling for a ‘more experienced’ employee to feel that that they are being ignored and their younger colleagues are passing off as more knowledgeable. You may lose them on the team or their contribution. Work along with them and encourage sharing.
What is the actual goal?
The reason you all find yourselves that engaged is that you have work to do. That is the higher motive. Do just that and push aside any discomforts that may come with stereo-types outside the office. As leader, this will be exactly your role since at the end of the day, measurable results are what is expected out of you no matter the mix of team differences.
It would probably help to recognize that, even when age is not an issue, learning to be a boss takes practice. After only a couple of months in the job, you may not yet feel secure enough in the role, which may in turn be causing your teammates to lack confidence in you.

Monday, November 28, 2011

"Cemetery park, please."

2.00am Saturday Morning
(Drizzles outside of the night Club)

"Could you plese drop me at Cemetery park?"
Totally zonked beauty slurs into this equally inebriated dude's ear.

Slightly attentive, possibly because the girl is such a looker, the short skirt she has on surely playing its role,he takes a double look.

"What d-d-did you say?” dude now fully alert, stammers.
Again it could have been the drink or the skirt.
Drawing even closer.
"I want to go to buje buje. I need a ride." She shouts into his ear.
"What are you saying?" he music does not make things any easier given their drunken state.
Drawing even closer, clasping one bony palm across the other ear, the one still saliva-free...

Dude softens up.
She takes it for a clue to explain.

Leading him by the hand through the mass of bodies on the dance floor,she throws him on the seat and straddles him.
Now she has his full attention.
Drawing even closer....
"I want to go to buje buje. Do you have a ride?"
"I will take you anywhere. Can we leave now?"
Miracles still happen, he is thinking.
His night fortunes have just turned around.

"But I don't think you understand. Buje buje is right there. There in Cemetery Park".
Dude is momentarily shocked.
He sets the record straight.
"No. You are not dead yet.
You are just drunk".

Who visits a cemetery at this time of the night!


Shoving her wig out of her eyes,she slowly lifts herself out of the couch.
"Oh my Gosh, these lights are really bright! Can I just lie here? Wake me up when we are ready to go."
In her soggy sub-conscious, she doesn't see any other people.
No music.
But all that is too much effort to grasp.
It is easier to just lie down.
Close her eyes to stop the spinning head.

Sam had kept filling her glass. Not letting it get even half full. At one moment he half remembered she almost sensed the quiet. That they were not in a loud discotheque anymore but in a quiet room, though with more alcohol.
Who would complain!

These girls, with drink! He muses.
But what did she mean by buje buje and the cemetery! Poor girl could be a recent orphan! He would ask her when she wakes up.

There is a loud knock on the door. He almost pours his drink. He panics. Who could that be!
He takes the almost dead girl to his bed.

There is a querying expression on his land lady's face. She must have heard all the shrieks and roars in the night. It had been a night of drunken stupor.
But even he could not remember whether anything happened!
Seeing the half drunk bottles and his breath not helping either, she gives him this disapproving look.
She retreats as quietly without saying a word.
This generation! She thinks.
But she is well paid and in time for her house,she cant complain about noise and girls too much.As long as they are not her own.

Damn nosy old woman! He is thinking.

A quick phone call clears everything up.
True,the girl in his bed is not known to him.
Never seen her before.
Last night was the first.

Her intention had been to go to Le Beaujolais. It is located inside Centenary Park.

But that was all before he had instead taken her home. To his home and kept feeding her alcohol till she blacked out.
Now how does a guy get someone who they don’t even know home!
And if they had just drunk all night, why was she in his shirt?

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

It’s warm here, jump in, and let’s keep talking…

Like I said last week about my experience writing over a year, it’s been a great experience. The title for this post should tell you where I am headed. I love writing here…I mean the blog. To me it’s a small warm room; warm always, even when it gets cold outside, it has warm covers.

Here, It feels like we are all in conversation and we can all see each other .We know everyone. It’s a close group. May be it’s a living room, several people sharing a couch or a bedroom, where you are not afraid or even embarrassed to invite your friends over. It is a close group. Here I feel like I can tell you anything…and if you feel cold it is that kind of camaraderie that is so typical of girls where you jump into bed together, to keep warm and just talk, about anything.

A lot of you who come here are the silent listeners, the ones who just nod along; mug of hot coffee in hand, left palm supporting chin, in concentration. No one would miss your presence because much as you do not say anything; you provide the fun in telling a story, with the usual nods and silent questions.

Some of you are the not –so –quiet type; you listen in and care to leave a comment, sometimes, if you could I believe you would interject, share an experience, put down the mug and applause. You are the type who will write on my wall or send me a message or leave a comment when I say something you relate to.

Some of you are none like the above two groups, when a story is well told, I imagine you feel it deeper. May be if it’s sad or deep you may drop a tear. You do not interrupt the discussion, nor do you say something, more like you don’t want to spoil the mood. But you will say something later, may be in an unrelated moment. Like those times that I have met some of you and you tell me, remember that article about, say Bird Pooh my you rocked. You made my day, or maybe you are actually right.

Once in a while I have got a hug or a beer for telling my story. Because much as some of the stories take their own life, a lot of them stem from true life events, real life stories. I have been bought lunch in Nairobi, by this fine girl who told me she likes the way I write. You should have seen me. She even went on to do a character analysis of me, calling me sly in the process. That is where we disagreed. Much as she insists. Okay I may have exaggerated a bit there, the lunch was not really to tell me she loves my writing, or even to tell me I look or appear sly… Any way being a friend, I believe it was just that, a friendly lunch for a friend in your town.

That is why I feel guilty. Guilty because I have not been able to consistently talk here. I have been distracted. It is just like a boy who has got an adoring little girlfriend who has seen him through everything, who now ignores her for a newer, wider….I wanted to say wider circulation, but then it wouldn’t resonate well, it only works with publications!

Like I said last week, I have not appeared here a lot of times, not because I have not been writing, rather because I have been writing more. As a result that diverted my attention from the cozy little room where I feel comfortable. In order to fill up the void, I have posted here some of the work I have worked on for a totally different audience. But even I feel it is more suited for other places, not this almost sacred warm room. So I have kept some of that work where it belongs, however much some of you may, maybe, have found it comfortable.

Over the past year, I have moved from telling stories as a hobby to seriously considering doing this for a while and with a little more seriousness, because as you may have noticed, I am working on my discipline. A gentleman in a particularly respectable publication told me how unserious and devoid of discipline I was, because I handed in my assignment late. I took it to heart.

Of course, you guys are not like the first cut girlfriend I have referred to above. You haven’t left anything really to be with me, but I take you seriously. You knew me before anyone else did. I imagine sometimes you come to the blog only to find tasteless stale pieces weeks old and you silently curse why I can’t update my blog more regularly. I feel you .I feel the same thing when I visit some of the blogs I follow. But Like I said, am learning my manners, so I promise to be a lot more regular.

A friend, one of those who will only tell me what he thinks of a particular piece of writing when we happen to physical meet, asked me this week whether I have made any money at all by writing. He told me of one respected gentleman in the region that has made a lot out of writing including a fine house in Muthaiga. I know you don’t want to hear the answer to his question, so I will leave it here.
True I have been paid various sums for my writing. I am very proud of myself given my age in this writing world. I have also been regularly published, something which means much more than money to me, that is why I will keep writing. For now though, I have not got to the level of buying a fine house either in Muthaiga or in Kololo here. But hey, who knows what is in store? The future is full of surprises and even more opportunities.

For now, let us keep munching on that corn, you know that newly popped warm corn! It is awesome, yes imagine we are eating that here, and some bowls of ground and cashew nuts, well-salted indeed, are making the rounds.
And let us keep talking.

Saturday, November 12, 2011

If you helped break them up, you will be the last person he will ever hook up with

Sean is newly single again. Depending on which side of the bar counter you are seated, this may be good news, as if straight from that popular Bible version. The good news which proclaims amazing things to sufferers-suffering single girls with a hot dude in the neighborhood- that is.
But Sean has been single before ,or rather has fallen out of love before(if it is him giving the marching orders), what other people call being dumped, if he were just left there agape, arms open as if in an expectation to embrace but with nothing to embrace-anymore. But those occurrences, despite being numerous, quiet numerous, have never ever warranted a summons for an extra-ordinary meeting of the brother hood.
What caused congregations at the bar counter straight from work this cold Tuesday evening, other than the cold beer and nuts of course, was that fact that some new news had surfaced in the Sean singleness saga. One of his friends, a girl, was involved. In fact, according to Sean’s findings this girl(friend) Jemima encouraged the demise of their relationship by feeding his girlfriend then, subtle yet well placed bunyebwa call them pointers to suggest the guy was not all that worth it. He is a flirt, with a string of exes, who she seemed to know all too well-despicable choice for girlfriends I tell you- and Sean’s family is not the marrying type; Jemima intimated to girlfriend-now ex, in the spirit of looking out for each other as girls.
This information seemed only shocking to Sean, who for all his skill and smooth talk had never known that this girl had her sights set on him. Therefore when most immediate past girlfriend left in a huff, Jemima was there to provide consolation as any loyal friend would. Thank God for such friends! But her strategy had one omission, she did not cover her tracks well, otherwise this beer and nuts we were taking while mulling over a very sensitive situation would have been spared.
Men, hate to feel stupid-even if they are, hood winked or tricked. They prefer that they be the ones to do that and not the other way round. So, the Sean who had been getting to terms with his dumped-ass state, with the comfort and reliable shoulder of Jemima, has suddenly turned cold and distant to the sudden worry and disturbance of the girl, a worry which led her to concernedly come asking what the problem might be. Is Sean coming down with a fever? He left all the food I sent him untouched last night, and all my calls and texts have gone unanswered!
Much as the bar-counter session did not come out with any useful suggestions; well by the time we were coming to resolution time, the bar was closing, hence the adjournment, it at least provided clarity to Sean that he had been set up. And it was not like he did not like his neighbor/friend/man hunter Jemima, he did. But I am sure you have all heard of that famous man-ego which will not accept help even if that help comes with good intentions-in this case kicking the then girlfriend’ s backside so he can have space for more favorably suiting girls-in Jemima’s view any way.
Men are like Lions, never hyenas. They hunt and may fail to kill, but if they will eat, they must have hunted the prey. Hyenas on the other hand are more opportunistic. They learned leverage well in jungle strategy school. They will keep a seemingly disinterested distance till the dirty work is done, and they will move in for the sharing or pieces most times. A lion is not one if it cannot do its dirty work. Its ancestors will disown it.
So, girls, if you ever get involved in this delicate balancing game of relationship power-sharing corridor negotiation, have this in mind, if you help ease his dumping, make sure he never knows about it, or better still, if he is stuck with someone unsuitable according to your analysis, tell him, or pray for him. Prayer works. Otherwise you are likely to be the last one, once again on that list of new considerations.
And oh, Jemima’s calls have not been returned. Not likely they will be.

Friday, November 11, 2011

Seriously, you wear that to work!

One day, as I was getting ready to go to my newly acquired job, I picked this cream shirt, with cufflinks and it had a matching tie, but I decided to leave that one out for now. May be another day; I told myself.
It also turned out that that was the same day that our Country Director would be visiting our office, so there was a flurry of activity around the office, and you can’t blame a new guy for wanting to impress!
Moments later I was at work, ready to meet the supreme boss. For some reason, he seemed to have noticed me, something I took for the aforesaid cream shirt. He even called my manager aside and whispered in her ear while indicating where I was seated.
Other than that, the meet-the –top-boss activity well without a fuss, till tea time when my manager asked me to stay a while, and could you please wait in my office? She asked me.
For one who dressed to impress, I didn’t even have a single disturbance in my mind that there was anything amiss. She probably wanted to compliment me on my effort to dress well. You know, employees must be complimented on every small effort they make, it is part of motivation; thoughts were running in my head.
Closing the door behind her, she seats herself behind her desk and studies me.
‘You know what we do here. Don’t you?’ Which kind of question is that! Of course I could recite, with eyes closed our vision, and mission statements.
She continued. “We work among the rural poor, those affected by disease. We seek to make a difference in their lives through skills development.
What I mean here is that we are a Civil Society Organization. This is not that kind of place where we wear gold cufflink’s while working with people who are looking for a few thousand shillings to buy their children food and medicine.”
This was not going well.
“The Country Director has suggested that you go home and change, and in future learn to dress more appropriately.”
The meeting was over, and because our stakeholders, as we called them, had already arrived, I was saved the trip home to change and instead spent the whole day with my sleeves rolled up, cuffs and all.
My next shopping trip involved picking up more short sleeved, chequered shirts and khaki pants that ensured I blended in well with the work environment.
That episode above marked my first lesson on how to dress for work.
Now let us get to you.
According to Forbes magazine, the way you dress affects how others view you. It's nothing personal, just business. It is also true that a lot of professional women and men are guilty of multiple fashion faux pas without realizing it, and their lack of judgment can sometimes lead to being passed over for a job or promotion. For the women for example the biggest fashion mistake you can make, is showing too much cleavage. It's distracting and inappropriate in a business environment. Dressing in what is seen as sexy attire may get you viewed as less competent; regardless of your skills and experience.
Of course we also wish workplaces came with manuals for everything including how to dress to work. Some actually do but even those who don’t expect you to figure it out.
The best advice experts give is to simply look around the office: Is your manager one who rarely takes off his jacket or, perhaps, does the Company President favor short skirts and skinny jeans? The fashion and social service industries, for instance, ordinarily have much more relaxed dress codes than, say, law firms.
Even if your position doesn't require you to see outside clients, you are still "making an impression on your boss [and] your potential future boss," notes Heather Kleis, a human resources adviser.
Don’t take it that being overly conservative the key to advancing. Don’t. As you may have noticed I was more overdressed that under dressed-if there is such a word. Mark though that despite the lengthy manual and pep talks from the HR manager, asserting a little bit of individuality and personal style can boost your confidence and ability. Remember that statement as you make career advancement plans- the way you dress affects how others view you. It's nothing personal, just business.

Saturday, November 5, 2011

A year in blogosphere

A year ago,November 4th to be exact,I wrote my first blog post.

That is not entirely accurate. Let me give it another go.

A year ago,November 4th to be exact,I posted my first piece on this blog.I had written some of the articles as far back as 2008.
But when I shared that first piece on face book,and then here,it opened up doors I had never thought existed.

Most important for me,I started writing.
It has been one year since and I have unfortunately been posting less and less often,ironically,because I now write more,in other places.

My business articles,and recently a few of my Social pieces have been published by The Daily Monitor,and I have also moved direction into more formal business writing both for The Daily Monitor and the CEO Magazine,the nature of which I do not post here.It would bore you to death.

It has been an interesting year,with interesting reviews about my writing,and I am glad I started.
Thanks everyone who has taken time to read,get into my soul or even commented here or shared when we met. It has been heart warming.

The way things seem,I may not just write for leisure for long(true I have been paid for some of the articles published)but there seems to be a point in future when I may write more in other places than here.

But I will continue my posts here,though I need more discipline, to be more regular.
For now,I will just continue writing,hoping that you continue reading and see where the future takes us.

Thanks for reading.

Thursday, November 3, 2011

This 'dogs are men thing'...er 'men are dogs';my final say

Once in a while, a man comes forward, in this era of ‘men -bashing’, to set the record straight, or let us say, to contribute to a majorly female dominated discussion. I have been nominated this time. So I will be telling you about issues you wish you knew about men.
You see, a lot of 'truths' you think you have about the menfolk are actually myths. You know why? Because they have been passed on by fellow women, who are not men (duh!) so they don't know how a man reasons, what a man wants and why men do what they do.

I believe in world peace and harmony, so I have decided that the more women and girls know the truth about men, the better we shall all co -relate and live happily-ever after.

Of course I don't expect all smiles, especially from the ‘brothers’ who will regard me as a snitch and wish to pour beer on me for telling on them, but I believe they will see the light -soon. That this is for their own good too...and anyway if the beer was poured properly I won't lodge any complaints either.

So, here we go.
Where did you ever get the concept that men are dogs? How can you even liken us-fathers, husbands, boyfriends, brothers-basically, the best creatures to have walked this earth, to a dog! Beats me!
Okay, people who keep dogs (I don't know many people who do) tell me that dogs are God-sent. They are humble, polite, loyal and protective. They would rather catch the grenade and die; if that is what is required-rather than let their master, or mistresses in this case, even sustain a scratch from that thing. Great aspects of character, if you ask me. May be that is why we may be referred to as dogs too. If that is the source of our so-naming, I can say I understand.

But No-someone here is screaming, the noun ‘dog’ here has a negative connotation, from the arguments at least.

Out of the arguments I have listened to, and those I have had the pleasure to eaves-drop on, this is the worst connotation that can be put in the same sentence with men, since filth.

Most will say that that being called a dog has nothing to do with sexual conquests. No?
You see , dogs, just like men, normally hang out together- clubs on weekends, strip clubs on Thursday’s, a bar on the other nights of the week, Rugby on Saturday while looking for something new to hit. Okay. I may agree there. Some men behave like dogs.

In their defense, even dogs sometimes tire of waiting for something to happen, like keeping the house where no thief ever breaks in, but once you have their attention, you need to keep it.
Dogs like attention. Please provide it, or they may roam, a little too far sometimes.
But you may argue still, that those are the stray dogs. Again-true.
Good dogs are well bred, and are equally well behaved. But if you get to the point of calling your spouse, boyfriend or someone you have never met, a dog, what would you be doing keeping around them, if I may ask?

Now, the point here is for you to pay attention while selecting your dog, and your man, if I may painfully use the two in the same sentence. Once you miss out on good genetic and family traits, even certified training may not get the best out of them.
So it should come as no surprise when a girl meets a guy and her mind is set to ‘All men are dogs’ mode. This is where the problem lies. Ask a girl to write a page on what a bad boyfriend is and she will write a novel –like volume. Ask her to write down what a good man is and she will write ‘Someone who treats me well’, with a full smile to boot.
The reason, my sister ,you may miss the ‘good man boat’ is that you are so busy looking for a dog in every man, than looking for the good men, and the universe ,karma, God, whatever you prefer to call it doesn’t disappoint.
Something else you may need to know; if you meet a guy who is being genuine and treat or speak to him as if he is a fake (dog) you have just ended the game even before the first whistle. You need to start paying more attention to the ‘potential husband/good boyfriend traits’ and not just focus on the ‘All men are dogs traits’.
It’s you that will suffer if you miss the 7 good things your man did yesterday but spent the whole next day dwelling on that one thing he did that you didn’t like. If you automatically expect a man to be a dog, you will treat him like a dog and yes he will (in your mind) become a dog.
The next night out when you meet a guy you like, and you notice something you don’t like, it doesn’t mean he is a dog it just means you’ve got some work to do. Men tend to do the same.

For those who believe they got dogs for men, a little paring shot here; look for the best in them, and may be keep that opinion to yourself (and your girlfriends) otherwise the day he learns that he may simply go out of his way to act to your expectations-you know how people are psychological beings and how they try to live up to their expectations, good or bad, right?
And, oh- don’t allow dog-like terms to be used in reference to anyone no matter their sex. It is abusive.
And unless you are keep dogs for pets, my advice would be to let them go roam-far away from you; and only you can do that.