Sunday, June 12, 2005

He's related to a Tapir!

Hot Dogs, Anyone? Posted by Hello
For years now my sister and I have been convincing our parents - nothing like a slice of microwaved Mowgli for breakfast! Unfortunately our requests have been in vain.

I seem to notice that most of my doggie dreams are in vain. Which led me to Pumpkin. (After whom this blog is named in case you haven't noticed). But that is another story.

This one's a looooong story. About 2 dachshunds. They may both be dachshunds but they are both as unlike each other as my sister and me. (Thank god for small mercies).

Tequila Posted by Hello So they entered my parent's lives just when they had begun exiting us. They sent me off to college & enter Tequila! A dear little brown-eyed girl amongst the daisy patches! But if you thought this lovely lady is a cherub, you couldn't be farther from the truth. She was the dogess of the Drm Bungalow! This spirited lady (named Tequila by my friend R. who had Cuban connections) commanded fear & respect from more quarters than you and me combined. The monkeys stopped stealing lichees and the crows couldn't drink from the fountains any more once Tequila arrived. Her friends ranged from the snake poison man to a dhobi's son to a skunk some nights. The nights she played with the skunks she wasn't allowed on the bed. Did that stop her? Think again!
She chewed the carpet when my parents socialised without her. One time she sidled up to "important" visitors my parents had from out of town, and was almost adopted by them till I was the ostensible excuse they couldn't give Tequila away! The next morning when I woke up and discovered my copy of the "Calcutta Chromosome" chewed to bits, I was the excuse they needed to give her away.
Sigh...if only life were that simple. But it isnÂ’t is it? Tequila's life was to change forever. Enter Mowgli.

Mowgli is a black dachshund whose mental age is one. Though he turned 8 in January, 2005. I suspect it has something to do with the Bengali mother - namby pambied son phenomena. He arrived soon after my sister left for college. My father found him in a kennel outside of Calcutta in protest to about 25 years of suffering the lack of balance at home -between his wife, two daughters, and a girlie dog, tequila.

Mowgli resembled a little black mouse. He smelt like a dead one unfortunately. My mother protested they didn't need another dog, the rest of us laughed at his odd appearance. Poor Mowgs had a solitary friend in Ramu - the head chef (aka the House Manager). We suspected his fascination with Mowgs was to do with his resemblance to kielbasa. Or bratwurst. He would simmer spices in a large pot, with mowgli balanced precariously on a shoulder, almost about to drop him in. Till my mother suspected the same and banned Mowgs from the kitchen.

I really am not sure at what point Mowgs turned into the toast of the households. Over the years Tequi got used to Mowgs. Mowgs didn't need to get used to Teq or anyone. He's been endowed with high tolerance and incredible greed. He even survived the attack of the sons in law.

Teq remains the top dog. She is snobbish. She doesn't eat toast without butter. She is fussy about the bits of meat handed to her. She cannot withstand sharp temperature differences. Her lovely liquid Cuervo gold eyes give you disapproving looks when you haven't come back to see her in a bit. She doesn't drool.

Mowgs, on the other hand is a slightly different story. He is greedy. Will eat anything. Anything. Friend or foe - if you bear food, you must be a friend! His drools have potential to drown the titanic. His breath has potential to substitute chemical weapons. His wonderful body odour has forced my mother to segregate the bed linen as "mowgli friendly" & not. The skin in his underbelly is still recovering from the time his low hanging stomach attracted a recently re- tarred road.

Such is life with teqs and mowgs. Makes a dog's life not seem like such a bad thing. I mean, how many dogs have travelled in special railway carriages and been served gourmet meals at the touch of a button?

Better still - it never ceases to amaze me how the teq-mowg world never seems to lack for wonders for my folks. Sort of like this morning, when i called my mother from a different continent, after nearly 10 days, and she responded to my 'what's up' with a " I think he's related to a Tapir! " Need I say more?

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