All over the island, men and dogs loiter. Dogs lie in the gutter and men lanquish on molded plastic chairs on the street. The dogs are mostly benign, exemplifying a live and let live attitude. Dogs do not offer to escort yout to exclusive gem sales. They do not introducket you to trishaw drivers who can bring you to one day only festivals at temples, find you the best masseuse in Asia or circle round and round the block on which you stroll. The dogs don't walk along side you and start conversations that inevitably end in a request for money, matrimony, sex, entrance to America, or all of the above. These strays do not gather in groups that shield them from their own weaknesses to stand on corners and talk about you. These mongrels do not stare openly at your breasts or, with lecherous eyes, scan your body at length from head to toe. They do not accidently on purpose touch your ass. They make not sniggering comments as you pass by. They do not grope you or press up against you on busses and trains. They play not parr in the endless ways by which women are corralled and controlled through irritation and intimidation. Nor are the dogs frustrated and shackled by chronic unemployment. But dogs are not repeatedly rebuffed by the industrializied nations to which they apply for visas so they can get off this island and get jobs, even if it means leaving their families. Apart form and unknowing of poverty amidst unseemly wealth, post conflict trauma, neocolonial malaise, sexism and virulent classism, these dogs just keep walking.