If you live in or have visited Bucharest you may well have seen one or two stray dogs hanging around the city. Well, ok more than one or two but numbers have certainly decreased over the last couple of years.

Where have all the dogs gone now? Some will have met their canine maker either naturally, or by accident. One unnamed local FMCG company actually rounded up the dogs inhabiting their factory site, enticed them into a truck and shipped them off to Oradea - ‘tis true I tell you!  However, I believe most of these dogs have relocated or have been relocated to where I live.

Yes, this is Pipera. The land of traffic congestion, too many schools, pink houses and currently incarcerated politicians. There have always been a few dogs affiliated to various building sites around Pipera but there are now a serious number of packs. The pack closest has amassed 20 drooling inbreds – no, not British politicians – making a walk for our pet dog and I rather hazardous. Mr. Patch is half Jack Russell, half Mr. Bean and always up for a fight but I’m not.

The daily walk requires quite an armoury to avoid my legs becoming dog food, i.e. small baseball bat, high frequency noise maker, stones plus my revolving toy cap gun which seems most effective of all. The packs’ tactic is to hide away around a corner and when we appear they go completely crazy and start looking at each other until their commander, an aging Rottweiler – who lets a Rottweiler loose? - gives some unseen signal and they charge.

With pensioner “Rottie” at the front they present a frightening prospect for anyone not armed with my personal arsenal of deterrents. A few bangs and flashes of the toy gun sees most yelp away and a quick blast on the high frequency scarer persuades the rest to retreat and re-group out of range. The same drama takes place as we return home and with the same result, fortunately.

Yesterday, fully armed with weapons and Mr Patch I turned the corner expecting the outraged growling cacophony prior to the boss giving the signal to engage the enemy. Nothing! Not a word and not a movement as the dog pack simply sat and watched us walk on. Was it an ambush? Had they split into two groups to apply a pincer movement? This was all very strange and we carefully walked on sure in the knowledge that they must give chase.

Then it hit me. The “Rottie” was not there; AWOL. There was nobody there to bark the orders and activate an offensive movement. No leader to show the way forward. The rest of the pack simply did not know what to do or did not have the courage to make a move. They lay half asleep on the floor completely uninterested.

And that is why so many businesses fail.

By David Jordan, guest writer