All characters appearing in this piece are real. Any resemblance to real persons, living (thankfully not yet dead), is purely designed by fate and certainly not coincidental.
I’m certain it’s some kind of a cosmic connection that was just not meant to be. Dogs and me, so legendary have been our encounters that today every time I knock at a new address, the patent question that rolls off my tongue is, “Ummm... well, are there any dogs around?” And if the person says no, I take his word with sacks full of salt. I double check and triple check, for I have had these tail-waggers appear in my life from nowhere, just about nowhere. Of course, the seasoned big Bong eyes never fail to do a quick recce of the place. In fact, I have become quite a sniffer myself. Survival instincts, you see.
Not that I am by any definition bony, but by all means, I have been many a doggie’s favourite pastime. The worst of those Tom and Jerry chases still give me the shudders; times when I thought this is it, it’s all over, life you were beautiful…till we meet again. Maybe a mewing Tom looks cute. But a barking Tom? Well, ask me!!
Imagine this most harmless girl, blurry eyed, half out of bed, dragging herself to class at 7.30 in the morning. Gaze glued to the watch, the poor thing knows she just can’t afford to miss another attendance. While the world around is still snoozing, at a far end of the road there’s this pack of gluttonous dogs rummaging through a mound of garbage, scaring away scrawny crows, growling over shreds of dumped food packets. As this reluctant soul plods on, the grouchy canines turn their gaze on her.” But why? Our paths weren't supposed to meet,” she whimpers. And as if prompted by a premonition and on a whiplash, she takes to her toes. ‘Run lola run….’ the words recycle in her mind, even as she does an instant Usain Bolt to scrape through the early morning scare. Heart in mouth, she finally manages to give the marauding mongrels a slip and lands in a bakery, panting and puffing much like the dogs behind. Whatever happened to the crows, she wonders.
Next, cut to a scene at her friend’s place, this best buddy who lives with her pampered pet, the ever- active bundle of energy, Mr Pogo. With this lovable Labrador it’s more like a long-distance relationship, Pogo on the first floor and this chicken heart on the ground floor. Standing outside the giant grilled gates and certainly at a very safe distance, she’d often engage in some serious doggy talks with the brawny boy up there. They would mostly exchange ‘how have you been’, ‘long time no see’ kinda pleasantries until one not-so fine day Pogo decides it’s time he had a better rendezvous with his master’s much pally pal. And the next thing you know he’s charging down the stairs, flinging open the iron gate and shooting towards her like a havoc of a hurricane. And amid all this, the dearest friend expects her to stand her ground. ‘Don’t move,’ she says. ‘You’re mad,’ comes a screeching reply. Don’t move? Really? And wait to be knocked down like a lamppost instead? And so begins another marathon that culminates with the jittery Jerry ducking behind a truck till Pogo finds things more interesting in his life.
Well, these are just two picks from the very many times that I have taken to my heels. If I were to jot them all, I could fill rims of papers. But let me mention, with dogged determination, I have made earnest attempts to befriend man’s best friend. Why I top their hate list is a mystery I’m yet to munch on. From the most ferocious of German Shepherds to those fashionable puny Pugs, I have had my unscheduled ‘speed’ date with all. Yes, the wry, wrinkly, muzzled-faced celeb dog too tried its luck with me. But this time I had the advantage of height and managed to shoo it off with much valour. Actually, I barked back at it and the already worried fellow twitched its brows further and walked away like he really couldn't be bothered.
But over all these heart-stopping moments of hits and misses, there’s one thing I have come to realize, true to their name, these creatures are barking mad! (Dog lovers, please don’t kill me for this. The cuddly whinings and playful bow-wows are all fine. But what when all the brute barks and ghastly gnashes are solely reserved for a few chosen ones like me? Have a heart, people.)
