Marley and Me

Marley And Me. Life and love with the world's worst dog. Straight on the shelf of my all-time favourite books.

This is not a book review, although God knows it's a must read for everyone, dog lovers and others alike. It adds to life's beautiful memories!

John Grogan has amazing writing skills. In Marley And Me, he brings his story to life, right in front of your eyes. I never felt like I was reading a book, I was watching it unfold before me. I know, for a fact, that I could neer watch the movie and feel the same, no matter how well it might have been made.

As I turned every page, I laughed at Marley's antics, stressed when the family went out leaving him alone at home, hated it when they put him in a kennel to go on vacations, love the walks he took, felt embarassed when he ran off with the table at the alfresco dining (all to sniff a poodle's genitalia). I could feel myself stiffen as Grogan described Marley stepping into the threshold of old age. Each time he discovered a failing function in Marley, I sensed something heavy in my heart. Why was this happening?

The Grogans lived an ordinary life. There was not a single incident in the book that was unusual or special, unless Marley was involved. Yet, not at one line did I get bored. I could read on and on, as Grogan talked of Marley's life year after year. I'm sure he has lots of funny, crazy and tearful memories stocked up, enough to fill another half a dozen books if he wished. I don't know if he picked the best of them or just wrote with the flow of the moment. It is most likely the latter.

Many times, as I read, I remembered my own first dog Sonu. He was no competition to Marley as far as being the world's worst dog went. No doubt he might have been a frequent visitor at the club, though. We loved him to bits, bossy and all. He was definitely the alpha male in the family. He refused to learn lessons he didn't want to. In some ways, there was a stark difference between him and Marley. He was disciplined and as he grew up, he was less and less a puppy. Devoted, no doubt. He understood the moods of people

When I read the bit about Marley comforting Jenny during one of her difficult pregnancies, it tugged at my heart. The warmest memories I have, of Sonu, are those times when he was just there for me, comforting me, always understanding. That's what I've missed most over the years. I still carry a picture of him, wherever 'home' is, for me. The decision to put him down was the hardest ever and he saved us the trouble by simply giving himself up. It hurt.

The last few pages of the book drove so close to home that I couldn't put down the book until I'd read to the last line. I didn't have a laptop at the time of writing this blog, so I wrote on paper, scribbling as furiously as my thoughts flew. I had to write. It is my tribute to Marley. And Sonu.

Reading Marley And Me makes me miss my own 11-year old back home. Pangs of guilt strike, as I think of my decision to leave her behind and chase after new experiences. She is a part labrador too but one of the most well-behaved dog I have ever had. Her obsession for food is no less than Marley's but she has none of the loony behaviour. The arthritis. The 'Mary's little lamb' act. Check. Check.

As the husband and I go through the same phase as John & Jenny, watching our 11-year old puppy in her retirement years, I notice how she too has her bad days when she needs help to get on the stairs and lots of good days when we wonder if she is really that old. Gone are those days when we tried to get her off our bed and sleep on hers in the lounge. Now, we hug her if she can leap onto it or get off by herself. Sometimes, she manages the leap but the jump down gives her the jitters. Not without reason, it is painful on her bones. How many times hasn't she collapsed when her hips gave way, trying to climb the stairs? Yet, we know that she has some more time to go. A few years, at least. Her eyes and ears, every other sense is as sharp as ever. She is still a puppy in so many ways.

Her name is Lucky. What a coincidence that Marley's story ends with the Grogans looking at an ad for a labrador retriever named Lucky too. As notorious as Marley was, probably?

I wonder what Xigris and George are up to. I wish I could cuddle them just now. On the other hand, what wouldn't I give to have Lucky sniffing around the house, fussing for food, right here with me?

Dogs. They make life so beautiful!

Just Amazing!

I met the most amazing auto driver today! 

He had forgotten to turn on the meter. I reminded him when I noticed it, about a kilometer later and he turned it on. He did not say a word about me having to pay for the distance covered without the meter on. I was so surprised. I couldn't help wondering if he'll pull something later, when we stop. I'd decided to pay him the extra 10 bucks anyway. When he stopped where I had to get off, still nothing. He did not even mention the missed kilometer. I paid him 10 bucks more than the meter and told him so. I almost expected him to protest and ask for more. Still nothing. Wow!

Also, I had not much trouble getting an auto when I went out this afternoon. Both ways. Both drivers did not know the way to my destination. Is that why they agreed to go? Probably.

My Lucky is the most amazing dog ever!

She's been angry with my brother for 4 days now. Initially, we thought it was because he had scared her back then. After 4 days, we were convinced it had to be something else. No one knew what it was but she refused to even acknowledge him. He would be talking to her and she would walk right past him. Now, she responds to him every morning and night. Right after he gives her chicken. Finally, bro figures it out! It was because he has been forgetting to share his chicken with her every night! Bravo Lucky! Bro kept asking, in the last few days, why she was annoyed with him after he's been sharing his chicken diet with her. If she could think aloud, we might have heard her say, "Yeah, right!"

I had the most amazing lunch in a long time!

It had been a really long time since I had a meal like that. We used to do that in our college days. We used to go to a darshini near our college. It was less than half a kilometer away but we were too lazy to even walk that distance. We called it UK - a silly pun to mean it was so far away and an acronym for Upahara Kendra (the name of the place). We started going there once somebody tried their awesome roti-curry for 10 bucks! Some boys would even have 2 plates of those and show off. I walked into an Adigas darshini today, intending to order a Rava-Idly. I did not find it on the board behind the counter and almost ordered the Rava Idly. I just turned to look around as I waited for the guy before me to finish, when I noticed the menu board on the wall. I quickly scanned it, hoping to be able to try something 'different' from normal and my eyes fell upon naan-curry. I ordered that. Of course, it did not cost 10 bucks like the days of yore. A good 25 rupees but total value for money. It instantly transported me back to the good old days. I enjoyed every bite of my naan-curry. I nearly ordered another plate, even though I was almost full. The only thing that stopped me was remembering that I am trying to fit into a single seat on my flight to Australia! I must go back there. So many more things on the menu to try out!

I made an amazing discovery today!

No matter how old men get, no matter which part of the world or culture they come from, no matter how wonderful they may be or what genius may reside in their brains, no matter what else, there is one thing that is common to ALL men. They are the world's best excuse-masters! You nag them and you nag them and you nag them. They will give you one excuse after another after another. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Must be because of all those silly women wanting equality with men and shit. Why couldn't we just be the queens and reign over the world?

PS. I hate exclamations in titles. Yuck!

Still A Twenty Something: Good Morning

Quiet, peaceful, a mug of coffee in one hand and the newspaper in the other. That is my kind of a morning. Noise causes short-circuits in my wiring.

Loud voices of Mother and Brother in my room woke me up this morning. On any other day, this would make me edgy. Today, I welcomed the noise in a heavily groggy state. Struggling to open my eyes, I sensed a couple of handshakes before somebody thrust something into my hands. By the time my senses were awakened and I realized what was happening, all I could see was a pair of gluteus maxima heading out the door. I went back to sleep, clutching the envelope.

Minutes later, I woke up and opened it.

"It wasn't originally meant for you but you can get your headphones with it. Tell me if it doesn't cover the cost", Brother had said.

The words registered only then. It was a Landmark gift voucher for a couple of thousand rupees. I was beside myself with joy. I could finally get those Bluetooth headphones! If not, I still love bookstore vouchers. Lov-e-ly!

When I subsequently woke up, Husband and Dog came to hug me, with a mug of warm tea. Mother and Sister-In-Law came looking for me. Sister-In-Law handed me a beautiful red box, with a lovely greenish candle tied with an olive green ribbon. Candles and ribbons are a weakness, I could not wait to open the box. All the womenfolk moved towards the living room, where I carefully tore off the delicate wrapper, ripping the sello-tape with the concentration of a chemist in a lab. The box had the most beautiful lantern I have ever owned. Rustic-looking, made of glass with a super-thin latch, it stole my heart from the word go! I need to find a place to hang it in my living room or bedroom.

I responded to a couple of texts. I like messages on mornings like these. Phone calls eat into my time and space. I am grateful for that. I wondered about the other Sister-In-Law, who was yet to call.

Husband wants to do a lot of things, he just does not know what they are. I wanted a long ride, so did he. The late morning forced me to skip mine, in order to make way for more pressing matters. He went ahead. I have got some 'me' time, I really need it. I can’t say why, just know that I am grateful for the hour by myself. I did some reading and writing. I also mucked about the social networking sites for a bit. Habits are hard to break. Like Mark Twain says, they need to be coaxed down the stairs, one step at a time. There is also a lot of correspondence to catch up on but that's for later.

The morning has turned out well so far. Eventful, in a quiet manner. Just the way I like it. Husband has promised to take me to The French Bistro for breakfast. I can’t wait, I hope the place won't disappoint me. I need to hit the temple on the way to breakfast. Ayyappa Swamy temple, one of my favourites! 

Lucky hasn't said anything to me as yet. She does not know. She will, once we bring the cake out. She loves cake. It speaks a language to her that none of us can. Chocolate cake sends her drooling like an overflowing reservoir. Husband has bought me the Royal Velvet, from Bliss. I don't remember the ingredients but when I'd read it on the menu at Bliss, the last time we were there, I had liked the sound of it. It's a tiny cake, expensive but I think it will be yummy. Small helps me stick to my diet too. Brilliant!

The cake ceremony has been moved to the evening, when Brother and Sister-In-Law are all home. I would like to bring home the in-laws but I do not see any hope for that. I might try asking, anyway, what have I to lose in inviting them? There is a 10% chance they might come and that gives me enough reason to make the call.

Expecting a phone call around noon. As per current plan, I should be free to take the call. A few more delightful moments in the charming day this promises to be. 

Mother has bought me a long kurta last evening. She always wants me to wear simple, traditional girl stuff. Now that I've turned into a rotund structure of excessive lipids, I oblige her. She is happy. So I am. We also bought a couple of embroidered dress materials and left it at the tailor's with measurements. I should get it before my nakshatra (star) day. She is pleased. So I am.

'Me' time is over now. I have to shower and be ready before my man gets home. He only needs 10 minutes to get ready. It will make my mom happy if we work to that plan. She wanted the same too. I seem to want all the same things that everyone else wants. Barring Lucky, maybe. She wants to play. Actually, I want to play with her too. Maybe I will drive her to a playground, with the husband later today. After breakfast, I have promised to help mum with the cooking. I will cut fruits for the fruit salad and custard that she has planned. She will make me vegetable pulao. I love fish and meat but today I am happy with vegetable pulao.

By the time, the plan is acted upon, the morning will slip into afternoon. Lunch is the only plan right now. Late afternoon might involve us visiting parents of a friend of Husband. He has a gift to pick up, long overdue. I intend to do a ride later in the day. That is about the plans, as I know right now. Will see how the day goes.

9.13AM

Guest Post #7: It's A Dog's Life

"If she can have a Facebook account, why can't she write a blog?" I don't have an answer to that question. If she wants to write a blog, she writes. What can I say? Don't answer, it's rhetorical. 

Ullas says I should write a guest post for Sangy. She was nice to me today, secretly gave me snacks when Ullas was delaying my dinner, so I agreed. I did not tell him that, so let us all pretend that I am a well-behaved dog (as you can see from my profile picture on Facebook).

I wanted to play ball today. I always want to play ball but today I did not want to walk. I only wanted to play ball. We went downstairs but there were too many cars. Also, too many bikes. If people do not want to take their cars or bikes out, then why do they buy them? Another one of those eccentricities of people that I never quite understood. Garages are meant for dogs to play, when there are no playgrounds. It's simple enough, why don't they get it?

Sangy chased me for a while but she is a little boring (don't tell her, she'll feel bad. I never do, I always humour her). Ullas joined later. He also brought the puss-puss thing that lets out air on my tail, so I ran and he chased me. He is fun. Sangy says he is also lazy. I like him anyway. Then Sangy told me that I had to walk. She made me leave the ball behind. She hid it behind the wheel of the car. I liked that. I like it when she takes care of my things. I don't want Taapi to take it, it is my ball. My favourite yellow ball. I love yellow colour. It also says Australia. Sangy has a lot of friends in Australia.

I was smelling the flowers during the walk. Ullas said to me not to 'stop everywhere to smell the roses'. Sangy said they were not roses and I could smell it, so I did. I got confused and suddenly sat down to do my business (Sangy calls it 'business', don't ask me why). They both got confused too, so they dragged me away. I learnt later that it was because I was in front of somebody's gate. I finished my business (it sounds funny) and then we walked a lot. 

Once, I think Sangy and Ullas were quarreling. I tried to hide between their legs. I hate it. Ullas was telling Sangy yesterday that I am like Sheldon. I don't think so. Sheldon is the big black fish in the water-tank. He is boring, he never plays ball. I am not like him. I love to play ball. I like the same food as him, though. Sangy never lets me eat his food, she says I am greedy. Coming back to my walk... Sangy told me that they were not quarreling but Ullas laughed. I think they were. They stopped because I told them to, by walking between their legs. I am a well-behaved dog. Unusual for this family, I know, but that is how I am.

When we came back, Sangy reminded me to take my ball. I wanted to play some more. Ullas went away for some time. Sangy was just talking to me. When Ullas came, Sangy went. I didn't mind. I like to spend time with Ullas. I was tired, so we did not play. Taapi was sitting on the road. I barked at him a lot. He never says anything to me, I don't know why. Maybe he is scared of me. That is good. I like Ullas and Sangy to think I am the brave one. I had fun. Ullas was looking at his mobile. He never takes photos like Sangy. I like his mobile better, I think it does not have a camera. Sangy is always taking photos. Sometimes I let her so that she won't feel bad. 

It's bedtime for me now. They will wake me up very early, when the cleaning lady comes home. We have a new lady. She does not talk with me. I don't like her but I cannot bark at her. Sangy tells me she is also our cleaning lady. I like the old lady better. We old ones are a better lot. We chat. I can't go to mummy's house in the mornings because she gets up late sometimes. I only go there to eat Sam's sandwich, after my tea and morning walk.

I am going to sleep now. It was nice talking to you all. Woof woof! Boww wwowww wroof!

It's always all about her. What she likes, what she does, what people say to her, what people think of her, etc. Fair enough. I was let down by a friend who had a deadline for today. My baby comes to the rescue! That's why I love her. Always there when I need her... 

Fix-All Saturday

My Saturday morning was supposed to consist of lots of exercise - mental and physical. A visit to a temple i.e. peace of mind and a long ride on my bike i.e. physical exertion, TFN training. Instead, it turned into a day of fixing, cleaning, washing and reading. Before I know it, the sun is making a sly exit and I've not even started with my original 'plan'.

I woke up in the morning, to the maid's doorbell. It was my turn to stay up while the maids (my usual and her daughter-in-law) went about their business, make tea for them, et al. Somewhere in all this, I found time to water the plants, shoot off an email to a friend, walk Lucky and feed her. Then mum walks in.

As has been usual in the last few weekends, mum comes home (every Saturday) with a long leather treadle belt in her hand, begging someone to fix it on her sewing machine. There's blouses to be stitched, trousers to be mended and some other patch-work to get done. After vain attempts from both boys and mum's refusal to budge, I decided to take a look. I'm not exactly a tools person but well, what did I have to lose?

We first looked at how the current belt was looped. All we had to do was loop the new belt in the same way and bond them together in the end. Easy peasy! So, we looped. And stopped. I had no clue how to pin them together. I say pin because mum had a pin she had bought from a store, that was apparently used to pin the ends of the treadle belt together. 

I got on the internet and after browsing through half a dozen websites that google threw up for a search on 'sewing machine parts' (I had to first find out what the belt was called and then click on links that referred to the treadle belt). Nothing on how to fix a treadle belt but one website had a picture of a pin stuck in one end of the belt. Was good enough for me, better than nothing. Woohoo!

I had the pin, just had to cut the belt to length, stick the ends of the pin in both ends of the treadle belt and tighten. Simple! NOT! As I found out within seconds. The machine shops probably have a strong stapler to simply pin the two ends together and it's all done within a couple of minutes. Not so for me. So, we were back to square one. Mum came up with the brilliant idea of heating the pin to red hot and piercing it in the leather. I liked the idea but was a bit skeptical about using the pin. We had only one of it, what if it bent or turned too soft? We decided to sacrifice a safety pin for the deed.

Even poking a hole with the pin was not as easy as I thought it might be - hold pin to the fire, wait till it turns red hot, poke it into the leather and voila! Not so. Again. So, I got a candle to keep heating the pin ever so often, as I poked and pushed into the stubborn leather. 

Finally, had one end of the belt with a hole and stuck the original pin into it. It took a bit of strength, a lot of time and some sweating (it's only the beginning of summer, sigh!). That done, it was time to do the other end. If I thought making a pin-hole in leather was tough, I was truly mistaken. Not the first time since I started. I had to get the right length of the belt. I looped the belt around the wheel and took a measurement. One round and just a little allowance to turn the wheel. Neat!

Inserting the pin into the second end with one side of the pin already in the first end was a little harder than the first but I was prepared for it, mentally. That done, I had to cut the leather. Mum got me a pair of scissors, her tailoring scissors. I was pretty sure that wouldn't do but for want of a better tool, I decided to try it. This time I was not wrong. Mum had gone off to take care of more pressing house-hold chores, so I cried out to the husband for help. He brought me a sharp blade to cut through the leather and a pair of pliers to press the pin in once we cut the leather. Bingo!

The treadle belt is cut, stapled together in the most primitive manner possible but all ready to set the wheels spinning. Even as I loop it around I know it is a failure. The belt is loose and will come off. I call mum for a trial run and again, I am right. It won't work. So, restart from scratch. I open up the pin, cut the belt shorter, stick the pin in - fire, pin, hole, pliers, the whole deal - and try again. Many tries and stubs of leather later, I finally I get the belt bonded, the right size and the wheel goes round and round, merrily, without slipping out. Whoopie!

Mum is pleased. The husband is impressed. I am proud of myself. I had never thought I could do a tools-and-repair act and succeed where the men had failed. That was an hour and half worth of hard work. Of course, if I had a big, sturdy, stapler, all I had to do was stuff the pin in it and clamp down on the belt. Oh well! I'd have still had to worry about getting the length right. Let us just agree it was hard work. Ingenious too?

That done, I set out to tackle my next big task for the day. Cleaning the aquarium for my little ones. Another couple of hours and there I was. Big Black GhostKnife Sheldon familiarizing himself with the new non-smelly water, filter and fake plants. Penny, who just lost her BFF Baldy a couple of days ago, being bothered by the 5 little men. Three little ladies, yet to be old enough to be hassled. Thirty six young 'uns huddling and shivering as I move them from the dirty tub to temp bucket and back to clean tub.

If I mention the fishes, I must mention the dog. Lucky gets very jealous when I give the fish so much attention. This picture is of the remnants of the new game she was playing with the husband a couple of days ago. 

He placed 3 of her toys in front of her and asked her to pick one. A pink ball with blue polka dots, a yellow ring and a multi-coloured dumbbell that jingled. After examining them for a whole minute, she picked up the dumbbell. She's going where the rest of the family is, baby, it's exercise time! Okay, alright, that's not true. She doesn't like pink, so she wouldn't pick the ball. The ring is too big to carry in her mouth and run. That explains the dumbbell. Small, mouth-handy i.e. easy to grip and win in a fight between her and the husband -- yes, all her games involve running away with the toy and wrestling with the husband for it. No prizes for guessing who wins.

Think Of An Angel & Hear The Flutter Of Its Wings

The start of a long weekend. Saturday morning. Sleep in. Woke up at 8AM, wishing I could get a real hug!

Lucky comes, wagging her tail, when she hears me stir. My cutie-pie! I love her so much. Hugged her, rubbed her until she first sat down to enjoy the attention and finally lay down just below the bed.

The husband follows a few minutes later. First talks to Lucky. Then it's my turn. Plants a kiss on my forehead and goes out to make tea for me. Cute as it may be, I'm still wishing I could get a real hug. He suddenly turns around and flings my donkey pillow at me. "Hug this", he says. Surprised! I didn't ask for a hug, how did he know? If he knew, why didn't he hug me?

Sigh! Where is the angel whose wings flutter when you wish for...

No Photos Please!

The intelligence and behaviour of dogs has never failed to amaze me. Some of their actions are so common that they may be the most natural thing, yet excite me to a great extent.

I woke up this morning to two dog-stories. My friend tells me how his little one that takes up his side of the bed and there is a fight for territory. Go back a few years. It's Sonu and dad fighting every night, for the spot next to mum. Dogs, the world over, are so similar. The husband, during our morning tea together, tells me how the little black pup near our house got chased off by the bigger dogs and his dad went across to comfort him. In a flash, the little one had forgotten all about the bullies and was jumping about excitedly. I've always known the big dad dog as a quiet, inexpressive dog. To hear that he acknowledges his little baby in the absence of the mother is so heart-warming.

Last night, as Lucky, the husband and I did our routine walk, we passed by the wine store down the road. There's a pack of 3 dogs and 2 puppies that sleep there. The black pup is very territorial and goes 'yap, yap, yap' the moment we hit the spot. His sibling, the white one, stands and eyes us warily. Sometimes he yaps too. Yesterday was one of those times. The moment the little ones start yelping, three fawn dogs come running out of nowhere. If there were two, I'd say the parents. I never understood the story of 3 but there they are, always together, all equally protective of the puppies.

So, if you pass by that corner with a dog, you'll see 2 pups who raise an alarm (and then head off into the side lane to hide) and 3 dogs who take position at the turning of the main street and the side lane.

They looked so beautiful, watching each other's backs, that I had to have a picture. The ever-obliging husband pulled out his cell phone and started clicking. Immediately, the mother of the pups stood up and crossed the road, to hide behind a road-sign. She hates it. I wonder how she knows but she does and she hides if you're taking a picture. Just like my Lucky. Just like my Sonu. He used to love posing as a kid but turned camera-shy as he grew older. The little ones of my friend's, they seem to love it, staring right at the camera. Maybe, it's a universal thing. Pups love being photographed but the older ones don't. Maybe it's a natural instinct to grow cynical about the whims of humans as dogs grow older.

I guess I'll never know but things like these fascinate me to no end. How do they know so much, without being taught? How do they understand?

As we passed them by and the husband stopped taking pictures, the mother returned to her place with the other two. We turned around and took another shot at them. They had to go on my blog. The mother is the one in the centre, in the picture below.

My Pets

In the 10 years that Sonu (my pomeranian, now dead for 4 years) lived with us, he used to love it when we cuddled him. He loved being pampered, although there were times he would behave like a typical boy and turn away with his nose in the air.

When we brought Lucky home, I noticed that she hated cuddling or any sort of physical proximity. She walked about like a lady who likes her space. I used to find it really strange because I thought all animals loved to be petted, especially dogs, especially labradors (she's a lab-mutt cross). I assumed it must be the kind of environment she was brought up in. Dogs have a great sense of the environment around them and they learn as well as adapt pretty quickly. My in-laws are a wee more formal than my family has ever been. Very polite. Respectful of each other's space. On the other hand, my family is one where we step on each others toes all the time as if that's the only way to go! It's our way of expressing a sense of belonging & sharing. I have learnt to love both and can switch from one mode to another quite easily, after so many years with both families. Back to Lucky now. Over time, she has learnt to acknowledge and even seek hugs whenever she can, from everyone in the family. I'm a very hug-loving person, I guess she just couldn't put me off for too long.

I'd read that Black Ghost Knives could be quite human friendly and once they establish a certain trust with us, they let us hand-feed them. I'd never tried that before. I've never really been able to build a relationship with Sheldon (or his former mate). He hides most part of the day and comes out only for food or after the lights-off hour. Last week, when I was feeding the fish, I tried to hand-feed Sheldon. He let me!! I was thrilled to bits. For some reason I can't really understand, he never allowed me that again.

I spent a couple of days trying to figure why. A couple of nights ago, he humoured me by grabbing one small bit of a flake but when I tried again, he wouldn't let me. It looked like he was shaking his head/body and swimming backwards. He did not go away, just kept going down in the tank, all the while eyeing the food. Frustrated, I dropped the flakes in the tank and left, mumbling to myself how a stupid fish could be so moody. I couldn't have been more wrong. Sheldon is far more intelligent than I could ever imagine a fish could be. He likes his space. He trusted me after all these days, to let me feed him. That was until last week. Over the weekend, I moved him in an under-sized fish-net from his home to a tub and then into a bucket, both of which he hated. I kept checking on him, so he knows who it was. That is enough for him to put a distance between us. He won't eat out of my hand. He needs his space (umm... why do women always get to hear that?)

I don't know enough about fishes to say if he sees me, smells me or it is a combination of both. I'm sure he sees me because he hates it when I watch him eat or when I peer through the glass into the space behind the air-pump where he hides most part of the day. Whatever it may be, it will be a while before I can make friends with him again, before I can hand-feed him.

In the meanwhile, the rest of the adult guppies seem to have shifted to the bottom of the tank, to avoid the school of fries who have crowded the top of the water. It's been about 3 days and Howard is finally back to his usual self. I saw him chase Penny around this morning! No!! I don't want any more fries! Is there a way one can neuter fishes?

In the smaller bowl, the new-born seem not to have adapted so well to the over-crowded bowl. The husband found 4 of them dead and lying under a heap of uneaten, soaked flakes this morning. They have now been moved to a larger tub where, hopefully, they will be able to live to grow into adult fish.

Lucky's "Welcome Home"

My little one was so excited to see me home early today. She wagged her tail at me and looked down the stairs. Why does she always assume that I've come home with the husband, when I'm home early? I need to tell her about my cycling!

A few minutes later the husband arrived. She must have thought I lied to her when I said he wasn't with me! She was ecstatic. They played rub-against-each-other, chase and roll for a while. She got hyper-excited and decided to chew on the husband's jacket. He complained to me and she turned away. Hmm. Baby's scared of momma!

Turned around to what? The husband's socks. She turns 5 years younger when she's playing with the husband. He has that effect on her! While she tried to run away with the socks, the husband caught her and grabbed his socks from her mouth. She followed him to where he was going to keep it. She is such a brat!

There's only so much energy one has after a tiring day at work and worse still, the gruelling ride in traffic. When mom said she was going up to the terrace, the husband sent Lucky with her too. She loves the terrace. She loves to run, play ball, sniff around and most times, just lie down in the open air and open space.

I've got a few minutes before my mum and my daughter come home. Then starts the various demands. Feed me! Feed her! Woof woof guff! Get off the laptop! Help, help, help!!

A Visit To The Vet

A visit to the vet is always eventful. It inevitably leaves me with mixed emotions.

So many breeds of dogs of all ages and sizes, varied behaviours, all so lovely. Most dogs are scared and so even the most ferocious ones are cute at the vet. Then there are some who seem not to care. They just sit staring into space or movements around them. There are also little ones who get excited at the smells and sights of so many other dogs and are eager to make friends with everyone.

There are the odd people who bring in the dogs on behalf of their owners. They have absolute no love for the dogs, no understanding of the poor thing's feelings and absolutely no sympathy for the poor animal. There are some dog-owners who don't care either. These are people who hit them, yell & tug at them, breaking my heart as I watch them, wishing I could save the poor dogs. Nothing can be said, however, so nothing is.

Today, it was a day of spitz-es at the vet. There were about half a dozen of them. One of them just lay on the seat, staring down at the floor, listening to the sounds around him. Another sat comfortably in his owner's arms, looking curiously at the people around him. Then came another little guy, totally shorn and with pink marks where it must have hurt. I can't imagine how the fella must find winter this year, poor baby! I remembered my dear old Sonu. He used to hate the vet too, would shiver in my arms while we were there. Mum used to shave him during summer, so he wouldn't feel too hot and he would look like a little goat. I miss him sometimes. Such an amazing guy he was!

There was a also 6 month Great Dane pup, who was restless and scared, brought to the clinic by a helper. The dumbass had not the faintest of idea as to what the dog was feeling nor did he know how to control it. He kept yelling at him, threatening it with a chain, until the husband and I spoke to the poor animal and he felt obliged to stop the treatment.

My girl Lucky hates the vet and refuses to enter the clinic. Today, she was more well-behaved than most days, so she came in with us. She sat patiently while we waited outside. Our number was 5. Once in, we had to wait for the doctor to finish with his previous patient. The normal routine is that we check her weight first and then get her on the examination table. After the checkup, there may or may not be a shot and we are done. Today, we checked her weight and we waited because the doc had to watch her gait to see if all was okay before we got her on the table. The poor baby had no clue why we were not getting her up on the table. She couldn't wait to leave. So, she kept getting on the weighing machine and pausing for a few seconds and then getting off, hoping that we would get the message! I love how intelligent she can be at times!

After she got on and off the weighing machine about 5 times, I decided to tell her why we were waiting. So much for intelligence, she did not understand a word of what I said. All she wanted was to leave. Fortunately for her, she didn't have to wait much longer. She walked around, the vet had a look, checked her bones and gave her a shot, all done in a few minutes.

Once off the table, she walked out of the clinic with me, without turning back even once. She knew which way was outside and she knew that the husband would follow later (he usually pays the vet & joins us later, with any prescriptions). Smartass (again)! I guess this is what you could call selective intelligence. She selects it when it suits her. Spoilt brat!

Lights Off, It's Playtime

When I go for a walk around 9PM, on some nights, I find the watchman's dog Taapi chained and fast asleep. So are the rest of the dogs in the street, i.e. either sleeping or walking around looking for food. On days when my walk is delayed to an hour when all is quiet and only the street lights are on, I've found that it's time for the dogs to play. The older ones mostly walk around or watch while the younger ones have their fun. It usually lasts for a couple of hours, for I have seen them play well past midnight.

Lucky & I stopped to muck around in the garage tonight, after our daily walk. While I sat on the stairway, she stood watching Taapi and another black dog play. They are both nearly the same age and fast friends. Chasing each other, rolling on the ground, jumping on each other, it's fun to watch them. My little one is 10 years old but I bet she wishes she could play like them. She was watching them with rapt attention, when my rude intervention broke into her trance. It wasn't intentional on my part, I did not know what she was upto and it really was time to go home.

This was one of those days I wish I had carried my mobile with me, so I could take some pictures. I don't usually carry my mobile on my walks with Lucky because I don't want to be interrupted by calls. I like that we spend time with each other with undivided attention. I like to understand her body language, watch where she wants to go and what she sniffs at. If the husband is with us, the two of us talk while she explores the various smells of the streets on her own, with an occasional interjection from me. If he isn't, I talk with her all along the walk, showing her other dogs, asking her rhetorical questions & making comments. She doesn't usually respond to my one-sided conversation but I know she is listening because she walks homeward when I ask her if she wants to go home and she crosses over to the other side of the road, if I point out puppies, etc.

She just walked into the room and stared at the wires on her bed. Then she looked at me, as I slowly moved the laptop cables off her bed onto the wooden floor. She has a bed large enough for 2 dogs her size but she won't let me put my cable in one corner! I guess I can't blame her, the adapter does get quite warm after a while. Moreover, she needs the freedom to sleep in any corner of the bed, as suits her mood. Take today, for instance, she does not want the pillow and has chosen to curl up in the centre of the bed. On some days, she will stick her head out of the bed and send me scurrying off to find her pillow, so she is not uncomfortable. Later in the night, I will find her leaning against the cupboard (yeah, I have to pick my clothes for the next morning, before she sleeps or I can't open my cupboard until she wakes up) and stretched across the length of the bed.

How did the topic switch from playful dogs on the road to my little one? She loves to play at night too. Many a nights, she has woken up the husband (all kids like playing ball with papa, yeah?) to play ball. Some nights, she has the ball in her mouth and wants to go to the roof. Funny dog! Just because she sleeps during the day, can we play with her all night? She just won't get it. Maybe it's because she knows the husband sleeps during the day too. Tonight's not one of those nights. She's already snoozing and I am about to head off too. The husband is watching The Big Bang Theory on the laptop. Lights off!

Mind Over Age

I've had a Spitz for 10 years and I thought I knew everything there is to know about dogs. Hell no! I got a 6 year old lab-mutt cross as dowry during my wedding and she opened a whole new world for me.

For one, she doesn't raise her leg and pee on trees. Car and bike tyres hold no fascination for her, except for an occasional sniff to see if any dog has passed that way. For another, she doesn't want to boss over us. Don't think that it means she does not get her way. Her ways of getting her way are different. She talks with her eyes and how! So expressive that we cannot pretend to not have understood her.

She doesn't bark unless necessary and she won't move a muscle more than is required for a task. Call her lazy if you will but I think that requires an enormous amount of intelligence. At the age of 9 or 10, she learns new languages. She used to be a Kannada-speaking (you know what I mean) dog but she now understands commands in English. Languages are not the only thing she learns... you have a new trick and she's game.

So much for old age. Whoever said that age is in the mind is so right. She seems to believe that she's only 4 or 5 and lives the life of one. Arthritis, cataract, weak liver and overweight can't stop her from doing what she pleases and being who she wants. Such an admirable trait. I wish we people could learn from her. She fights and she does it with a will-power as if there is no option of 'No'.

Something we have all tried to understand but failed miserably. How does she know where you are hiding, when playing ball? She does not sniff, she has not seen you go where you went and yet, she heads straight to your hide-out as if you'd discussed where you were going to hide. How on earth does she do that? No matter where you go, she will be there with her ball, as if it's the most natural thing.

She knows who will walk her, feed her and play with her, at the time she needs all of those. She just knows everything that she needs to know to suit her lifestyle. She is spoilt and we don't even realize that we are spoiling her. She simply knows to get things done, like a smooth operator.

Does she need tea before her first walk or after? Does she need tea at all this morning? No cold tea, it has to be hot. Not smoking hot, though, it will burn her tongue. And here I am, dancing to her tunes, catering to her needs as if it's my duty... almost never complaining. She has trained me well. Yet, one has to only login to her Facebook account to listen to her bitch about me and proclaim her love for the husband. What a bitch! Oops, that doesn't hurt, does it? It's who she is!

Lucky, the baby

From another blog: Posted by Bumblebee at 6/20/2009 11:43:00 PM

As she grows older, Lucky is behaving more and more like a baby, throwing tantrums these days. Today, she ripped off the bandage around her ears and hid under the cot (guilt, it appears). She refused to come out until Ullas cajoled her out from under the cot. All because he'd not been giving her enough attention for the last 2 or 3 days!

She was very happy when I told her that we'll go to the terrace to play ball. She waited patiently until we had dinner and then insisted that we go up to play. We went up for a few minutes, played ball and then she sat down with Ullas, both of them having their one-sided conversation - one listening, the other talking.

Soon, we decided to come down as Ullas had a headache. She was reluctant but between the two of us, we managed to convince her to head home with a lot of begging & pleading. She's in a much better mood now, the best I've seen in the last 3 days.

It's cute to watch her behaving like a spoilt kid sometimes but it's also heartbreaking... she needs so much attention, poor baby.

Lucky - 10 yrs (66 dog years)

Old age has caught up with Lucky. She is all of 10 years but still our little baby. Adorable and cuddly as ever.

Come cold season and her arthritis acts up. Being heavy as she is and a big dog, doesn't help at all. She's being quite strong and taking it well. If she can manage it, she's up for a short game of ball and when possible, takes a short trip to mum's. She definitely won't let it stop her from being the food monster.

She swallows half a dozen tables twice a day, cannot sit & stand as she pleases until the legs get better and yet, she won't let that affect her lifestyle. A little more hours dedicated to sleep but that's okay she thinks, life gives out shit and I don't have to wallow in it.

Shoes and a shirt - something she hates but she will do it, if that's what it takes to fight the bad cold season. She's the same shirt size as the husband, so there's no dearth of clothes. When she wants to look cool, there's my lot of spaghetti-tops for her. Now, that's some wardrobe for a cute chick.

Pee-ing is a chore that she dreads, for she has to walk down two flights of stairs. With a little persuasion and a little help, she manages it, hard as it may be. That's my baby, the fighter!

Lucky @ Diwali

Although I have very fond memories of Diwali from my early childhood days - sharing crackers with the kids in our colony, all the lights, sparks & colours, the dangerous tricks we tried behind our parents' backs - I haven't quiet celebrated the festival since I was about 15 years old.

Reason? I bought an adorable little puppy home then and although he didn't mind Diwali so much in the initial years (in fact he loved watching the sparks fly about), he grew up to hate it. The noise terrified him and he would climb all over us, scratching us generously with his paws and snapping at the slightest touch. He loved mum so much that if she went alone, he'd have to follow her, no matter how scared he was and he would bark at the top of his voice until she came back in. He worried that something would happen to her and that was a greater concern for him than his own fear. It's heartening to see that kind of love. I wonder if one human can give another that.

Three years ago, he passed away. It was just a month before my wedding and for a couple of years after that I did not want to participate in any celebrations. I still miss him sometimes but the number of times has lessened as the days roll by. I think of him often. Well, this is not a blog about Sonu, so I will move on. Maybe I'll write one for him later, there's so many memories I carry!

I say it like a joke but it could just be true. Lucky came to stay in my house almost like a dowry, a few months into my marriage. Like the maid-in-waiting of a princess who follows the young bride, to serve her in her new home. Although she was jealous of me when I first moved into my in-laws' place, she adjusted pretty well once she moved into my own place.

The year before my marriage, she had had a bout of fits during Diwali. All the noise had freaked her out. Ever since, we had been worried about her, especially around this time. It's been 3 years since then and she has shown no signs of relapse (thank God for that). On the other hand, she has grown to be curious. This Diwali she went down to the garage with the family, where they lit crackers - sparklers, flower-pots and the like. I missed the party but I heard stories about her that pleased me!

Instead of being scared of the noises or the 'fire', she was intrigued. She was excited about the sparks that flew about and went searching for them on the ground as they disappeared. She is the only dog I've heard of who would do such a thing.

However, I'm not too surprised. She seems to implicitly trust that anything that one of us in the family participates in, cannot hurt her either. She watches me light the lamps in the pooja room on some days and sits down to watch. She doesn't understand it but she knows it is harmless because I'm right there, doing something with it.

They have so much love and trust for us! No wonder they call a dog man's best friend. They give and they give and they give, no matter what. They forget the times you have been angry with them or the times you didn't let them have the treat they thought they deserved but they will not forget that you are family and they love you relentlessly.