The Parable of a Wet Nose and a Waggy Tail

4pm. The stomach rumbles.  A bag laden with books precariously poised tug at the shoulders. The haggle with the auto wallah drains the remaining morsel of energy or enthusiasm.  A flight of stairs later, a key turns in a lock…

A gargantuan mass of golden fur comes bounding, knocking everything down in the vicinity. Leo. Every single day of the week.

Leo is our 2-year-old Golden retriever, blissfully trapped in a time bubble. He still loves chasing his tail on a boring Tuesday afternoon. He has no inkling of his bulging belly or its ability to squat and squash the neighbor’s cat. He probably doesn’t care. Given a choice and if he does stumble on an opportunity, he would much rather squeeze his bum into my fleshy albeit uncomfortable lap. He would dance around me in happy circles; prance around the house in wild abandon, mock fight with the Husband and sleep like a child. He still believes that he is a puppy. You can always grow big but you needn’t grow up he seems to say. At times he makes life look too simple and too easy.

Where does get all the energy from? I wonder. It must be the seven hours of beauty sleep that he gets while I am away at work, or the gallons of milk he slurps in a hurry. His energy is so infectious that it rubs on to anyone who encounters him, even briefly. It must require some talent to turn my scowl into a more endearing smile and mollycoddle even as I am being torn by an urge to fling myself on the nearest sofa and slip into coma. He would trot around me from room to room, as I slipped into something comfortable, grabbed a bite, made some tea and would sleep on the bathroom mat while I daydreamed in the loo.  When I was too preoccupied to throw the ball that he clutched in his mouth he would whine and whimper. And just then the elusive fly would appear and Leo would tear around the house chasing after it. It would irritate, entertain and eventually tire him out. However in five minutes, while I sat plodding away in front of the computer, eyebrows knitted in concentration, I would catch a glimpse of the golden tail wafting behind the table, approaching me like a shark’s fin. 

We got Leo one day in January, two months into our marriage, almost on a whim. A dog was certainly part of our growing old plans. But when exactly and how soon were questions that we probably didn’t deliberate enough. But I was in between jobs and the moment seemed right. Amongst the three puppies that we saw, quite cinematically, he made the last and of course the grand appearance. He had a coat like his mother’s, golden brown and lustrous. Unlike his ‘alpha- male’ brother who nibbled on my fingers and peed on the Husband or his other brother who curled himself into a ball under the sofa, despising us for gate crashing his siesta, Leo at first sight was nonchalant. He wagged his tail; hovered around briefly, and scampered away, ignoring the pair of adults who waited for a sign, a jump on our laps perhaps, to christen him as the chosen one. He was more interested in the ball of newspaper near the TV stand.

Thus Leo’s life journey symbolically began as he drove with us from Chennai to Bangalore, snuggled into the folds of his new maroon bed.

The charming little puppy that he was, Leo managed to get the neighbors to croon their ‘awws’ and ‘choc chweets” regularly. He basked in their attention and doused them with licks in return. However the honeymoon period was soon over. I woke up every morning to the smell of damp pillows and rooms strewn with newspapers. He littered the rooms with the same wild abandon. I started mopping the floors before brushing my teeth.

And then one fine day, almost predictably, I had my momentary lapse of reason and broke into a bucket of tears.” I don’t think I can handle this,” I sobbed. I started questioning my decision. “ A dog is a lot of responsibility,” my mother’s voice bellowed in my head. “ It will be good training for me, “I had rationalized with her then. Now, given my uncanny ability to over analyze and hyperventilate, I started doubting my credentials and my ‘mothering skills’. It was time for the Husband to step in and give his rapid-fire pep talk, which he did very effectively as always, by patiently sugarcoating my fears.  We covered the entire room with newspapers and a chalked up a plan to toilet train little Leo. I worked diligently, following the strategy with religious perfection and armed with a ‘poop-scoop’.

Sometimes when we ignore the little things, we realize how easy life becomes and how fast the seemingly insurmountable problems whizz past us.  Today I do not remember the day when Leo stopped being a toddler, but these are the days when I long for those days, when he was small enough to be carried around. Leo grew up too soon! He was a favorite with the family, effortlessly serenading everyone from our 89-year-old grandfather to my 3-year-old niece. Every abroad visit brought more toys for him than chocolates for us.  Every guest to the house was received with his ceremonial and rapturous welcomes that sent some in a tizzy and some kinder souls to think of reaching the nearest Animal Rescue Board, thinking that this poor dog was deprived of any semblance of human contact. He didn’t spare anybody, not the apathetic uncle, not even my terrified best friend. He had his way of gently clawing his way into their hearts and once in, settling in there for good. It was almost as though it was an unsaid and unwritten rule to adore him and he made sure everyone followed it to the hilt.

“Dogs have no self respect; they do not have a mind of their own” is every cat lover’s tagline.  Leo has a mind that would put any self-respecting human being to shame. Our dear canine friend is a stickler for perfection. He likes to have his meals on time. Even more importantly he likes to go to bed at sharp 10: 30 pm, as if he has a horrible boss, an unreasonable client or a spate of meetings to attend to the next day. And if you did disturb his slumber with some loud chitchatting or some TV watching, he would treat you with some high quality and high decibel barking for 10 whole minutes. Or he would park himself on you, till you become breathless and decide you would catch up on some sleep as well.

 

Leo has his own bed and his basket of toys that he detests sharing with anyone and putting all the popular theories and older dogs to shame, will wag his tail only when he wants to. Gone are the good old days when a dog used to wag its tail even if you thought of being nice to it. You can smother him with affection, dole out as many biscuits as you want and tickle his belly. But his majesty, true to his name will wag his tail and lend himself to some canoodling only when he is in a mood and when he deems fit. If this isn’t self-respect I don’t know what is!

However certain ‘Dog Ethics’ never ever change. Like all dogs, Leo too has only true love in his life; food. A true foodie he likes to taste everything, from the toilet brush to gourmet cupcakes. Of course being the very frank friend, if he doesn’t think too highly of your ‘continent- like -shaped phulkas’ he will waste no time in spitting it out with the same fervor with which he gobbled it.  Leo loves mangoes, pappad and cake, but ice cream tops the list. With ice cream his animal nature makes a comeback. He could kill for those scoops of Vanilla.

Interestingly, our little Benjamin Button’s bad behavior grew exponentially to his size. The adorable puppy, who used to patiently wait in his bed for me to wake up and take him for a walk, with ‘maturity’, now insists on knocking on the door relentlessly till one of us succumb to irritation and open. Silence, and some peaceful sleep would engulf the next half an hour till one of us again wakes up, this time to the nudges from his soft backside, that slowly encroaches into the bed, creating more room for him to sleep. A loud scream and a whack later he slumps to the floor with a sad face.

Part of being a parent, and perhaps the most worrisome part is not knowing what your child is thinking.  I have seen several parents stress themselves over the mysterious minds that their children are. On the contrary dogs are sublimely happy to tell you how they are feeling and want to be part of every little thing  you do.  This attention seeker would sandwich himself between us during every serious conversation. He would jump on us animatedly when we argued and when we danced like a bunch of fools for ‘Just Dance’ on Kinect he isn’t embarrassed and joins in the party. If only having and rearing a child was this easy!

Who is Leo? Why Leo? I sometimes philosophize. Spoilt brat?  His Good karma? Excellent training for future parenthood? I will never know.

 

There is a bar of chocolate lying by the laptop as I type this. At the corner of my eye sits a droopy face, floppy ears and marble eyes, pouting. Staring down the bridge of his nose, drool dribbling down; he waits; hoping his cuteness would melt this mean lady.

 And it does.

For the hundredth time.