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.

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.

80's A Crowd!!!

I cleaned the fish tank this morning. It was long overdue and hence a priority task on my To-Do list for today. It was as if the female adults were just waiting for this moment, to give birth. I've read somewhere that the guppies need a 'conducive' environment to have babies. Obviously, the yellowish water wasn't conducive enough and the transfer helped enable up the process.

The blackie was very restless when I moved him out. He used to adjust better when he had a mate but now he's quite moody. He has grown bigger than my net and was annoyed that I put him in it. He went around nudging the little ones and snapping at them. A while later, the husband found one of the female adult guppies without a tail. Not sure if he bit it off but I wouldn't rule it out. Poor guppy has been suffering ever since! I immediately shifted him into a separate bucket of water. He still wasn't too pleased but atleast he couldn't do any more damage. I tried to feed him but he only came up to sniff the food in my fingers and turned away. The arrogance!

Once I cleaned the tank, I started putting them inside, counting them one at a time. I got 32 and I was happy. The husband said there had to be 36. So I got 3 more and we thought one might have died. Then we found a few more at the bottom of the tub. I casually mentioned to my husband that I was surprised to have so many, I'd only expected 32 because we had given away four to the sis-in-law. Suddenly, the husband springs up. "Uh-oh, we're having babies again!".

I instantly grabbed the net and a bowl and started to transfer the new born fries into another bowl. There began the adventure. As the tail-less one struggled and started giving birth, the husband and I got busy rescuing the little ones. There wasn't as much havoc as the last time, possibly because of the thirty odd fries from the last time creating a bit of a confusion. The guppies might have been as confused and hardpressed to find the new-born babies as us. So, they weren't being eaten as quickly. The 3-month old guppy, barely twice the size of the babies, swallowed one too. So painful to watch, with the tail of the new-born sticking out of it's mouth for over half a minute, while she swallowed it with difficulty. That might have taught her a lesson, for she did not attempt it again! Thank God for that!

The blackie was extremely bothered by the constant flashing of light in the tank, as the two of us tried to find the fries that were hiding behind the water filter (where the blackie mostly spends his time) and using the black floor of the tank as camouflage. He kept flying out of his hideout to show his irritation by swimming in a restless manner and trying to pick at anything he could find - little fish, flakes of food or just the glass walls. He hated the entire time we spent, which was about 3 hours, while we rescued the fish. He did not like the sound of my voice in the vicinity of his abode. Good lords! How can a fish be so intelligent and so fussy? He was very unhappy with the little fries constantly trying to hide behind the water filter. Whoever heard of such a cranky fish? He reminds me so much of Sheldon Cooper from The Big Bang Theory!

A little more than three hours later, we finally decided to abandon the rescue operation. It was hard, thinking of any more babies that could be born and destroyed. We already watched a few being eaten, one still-born drop out of the mother (oh dear!) and one that fell out of my net and died in transit. As we went about getting ready to leave to a friend's place for lunch (the invite was for 12.30 and it was 3PM already!!!), we kept an eye out for any more new ones. In the time I took to clean up the remnants of the fish-tank cleaning expedition and took a shower, the husband rescued another 7 more. We have over 30 fries born today, nearer to 40, I think, all of them sharing a little transparent bowl as a temporary arrangement. It will be a good six weeks atleast before they are big enough to be moved into the home tank.

In the meanwhile, the tank itself has the blackie, the male adult guppy, two female adult guppies, one female kid guppy and 33 baby guppies. What a huge family! I wonder if the tank will get crowded as the babies grow. Too early to say. What will happen when today's fries grow big enough to go home? No idea! I might have to get the blackie a companion to calm him down. At the rate at which he's growing, I might just need a bigger tank for him and his yet-to-come-home partner. How am I going to manage that? I don't know! For now, I'm too beat to think. Happy to donate the babies to families that will take care.

The husband's friend wants about four fish and we are more than happy to oblige. I might give them some from the last batch. What worries us is how we can manage the addition of 40 guppies every 6 weeks? Is there a way to neuter them, I wonder! Fortunately, the 33 babies are all female too. I cannot begin to imagine what a mess it would be if we had had more males. The current male will have a bigger range of females to mate with once they grow up. I only hope that it doesn't mean larger and more frequent batches of birthing!! Aaaaah, just the thought worries me. No more rescue operations, we will just let the survivors live and the rest should take the course Nature has devised for them.

As we now have a way of identifying each of the older fish, we have decided to name them. Of course, the 33 six-week old babies or the new-born ones cannot be named, they look too alike to be identified. So, here we go (as is obvious, TBBT has a big influence on me at the moment).

Sheldon -   Blackie

Howard  -   Male Guppy

Baldie  -   Fin-less Female Guppy

Winkle  -   Tailed Female Guppy

Penny   -   First Female Survivor Guppy

For more pet-fish-names, here are links. There are more links leading out of these pages.

http://exoticpets.about.com/cs/namelists/a/namesfish.htm

http://www.aquariumfish.net/pages/names_for_fish_males.htm

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!!

As The Family Grows In Size...

I said I was not going to write today because it was really late in the night. I had to sleep for I have an early morning tomorrow. However, that is not to be. Sleep eludes me and my mind is restless for there are thoughts in there that need to be stowed away. Like the old headmaster Dumbledore's pensieve, in the Harry Potter's series.

I remembered to water the plants tonight, before hitting the sack. That got me thinking, took me back in time, in some sort of a reverse action (remember Fast Forward and Fast Reverse in the VCPs of the good old days?)

When the husband and I first left my in-laws place to set up a home by ourselves, we were not sure how we would manage. All we had was the determination to do it. It was not easy but we somehow survived the ups and downs. I have never had a reason to regret the decision. Within a year of moving out and in the midst of our struggle to live on our own, the in-laws demanded that we take the family dog in with us, as they could not take care of her any more. I was worried as to how we fit her in our busy lives, both of us working and barely managing to get the domestic chores done.

A few sleepless nights later, we brought Lucky home, on the husband's insistence. It was not an easy ride at all. She hated being alone and either the husband or I had to rush home from office every day, when the house owner called, annoyed by her howling. The neighbours were constantly complaining to the owner and she wanted us to "do something about the dog". It didn't help that her own children went to the balcony and teased the poor, scared baby. We managed somehow. We got her a radio for her following birthday and played it softly for the time we were away, so she could feel the presence of company and not be overwhelmed by the silence in the house. It seemed to work for a bit.

Slowly, she got used to our routines and began to enjoy living with us. We took her to the in-laws' place on an occasional weekend, for they missed her. During the weekdays, we walked her a couple of kilometers to my parents' place, which she absolutely loved. Soon, she became an inseparable part of our lives. She's our baby now. I cannot imagine a day in my life without her in it. I would be lost if I'd to spend a night without her in the same room as me or without the assurance that she'll be there to wag her tail at me as soon as I open my eyes the next morning.

She's just merged into our lives like brushing teeth or having bath. She's not a responsibility. After this, the only thing that could be an extra responsibility was having a baby. Or so, I thought.

One morning, on a whim, I brought home my parents' old aquarium, lying dirty and abandoned in the garage. Mum and I cleaned it, painted & dried it on the terrace and it was ready to be a home to my fishes. I don't know what made me do it, just knew that I wanted to. I brought home a couple of Black Ghost Knives and a handful of guppies. There has been no looking back since then. I love them. Today, they are another integral part of my life.

The husband and I shared an excitement inexplicable, when the guppies had their babies. It broke our hearts to see one of our blackies die in front of our eyes. It's amazing how they can bring about such an array of emotions in our hearts, without saying a word or connecting with us in any way another human or animal might. I have no regrets.

They're part of my life now, not a responsibility I wish I didn't have! All they need is to be fed twice a day, the air-pump/motor and light switched on for a few hours, a fortnightly cleaning of the tank and changing water. No fuss.

I didn't see anything else coming after this. How could there be? I might have wanted another pup but Lucky wouldn't allow me to. Maybe it's a good thing. She isn't too thrilled about the fishes either but they leave her alone, so she leaves them alone. She feels a wee neglected on days when I'm cleaning the tank and giving the fish all my attention... or on days like the one where the husband and I were rescuing the guppies from their parents. Well, that did not stop me from adding another member-group to the family. It was meant to be.

Last week I brought home plants. Three pots with baby palms, standing tall in the balcony adjoining the bedroom. One Tulsi in the balcony adjoining the library (mum insisted that it was good to have a Tulsi in that particular direction, so it stands alone in the other balcony). All they need is to be watered twice a day. If I did only once, they don't complain either way.

The plants experience is still new. While I enjoy seeing green in my balconies, the challenge will be to ensure that I do not kill them. I hope I can pull this one off too, just like I managed with Lucky and the fishes. I don't know what is in store for me next. It's too early to anticipate. I'll just go with the flow. When it happens, I'm sure it will bring just as much joy into my life as all these other things have.

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!

Puppy Love

I love dogs. I adore puppies. Sometimes I think dogs never grow up. They remain puppies forever!

Puppies are the cutest, cuddliest things you can bring into your life. When it comes to strays, I've never seen one that's single. They're always atleast two of them and they always stick together. The bonding is so strong. There's two on the street behind my house. One fellow is always following the other, no matter what they are upto.

Puppies look even cuter when they are sleeping. They cuddle together, looking like a single ball of fur or coiled together, creating the warmest picture I have seen.

I saw these when I went to school a couple of days ago. The fairer guy woke up when he saw us. See that yawn? Oh my! You just want to lift him in the air & cuddle him! The other two lying one on top of the other, in the typical puppy-sleeping style. I just wanted to stand there and watch them!!

This morning, I saw the cutie-pie doggies in the street behind my house, sleeping in. At 6 in the morning, they were still not up. They were lying together... it was such a beautiful sight... it made my day! Each little fellow lying in a foetal position, one with his head on the other. So much warmth, so much comfort, being there for one another...

I love dogs. I love puppies. I love that dogs never grow up & remain puppies forever.

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!

A pair of each

Xigris and George

Sisko and Dax

Rosie and Seelo

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.