Don’t we have to lie in the bed we make for ourselves? Mother is just about learning to do that. Last night I found her washing the paws of the four legged brainless fur ball that believes our house is nothing but a large lavatory where she is free to ease herself as and when she pleases.
Mother kept asking the children to bring her some shampoo quickly and when no one obliged, I caught her using L’Occitane shampoo that I believe belongs to father, to get some poop off Tiffany’s paws. One can see that no indulgence is being spared on this creature that does not have the common sense to know that one does not walk around in one’s own ordure while I, the discerning one, am bathed with some regular dog shampoo.
So talking about mother, she brings this dog into my life and takes off with her children for some kind of a holiday that involves packing in more clothes than Cleopatra and her entourage of eunuchs and maids might have carried when she went off to meet Mark Anthony. Not that it is any of my business, but somewhere in that luggage, the puppy got lost. She probably got mistaken for a fur hat and packed away. I was relieved and offered no olfactory help when the family panicked after noticing her absence. In my opinion it was extremely irresponsible of mother to want to leave behind a puppy of excessive innocence and limited intelligence, if at all, in the care of my apathetic self, in the first place. As my bad luck would have it, she got found just as the older child was going over the contents of her own suitcase looking to make sure she had packed her pair of gloves. She had fallen asleep somewhere in the heap of clothes.
On my part, in spite of the mounting pressure from the family, I wasn’t about to feign any kind of interest in her to please them. About a week after Tiffany arrived into (was thrust upon) my life, I was being forced to muster up an emotion for her that I wasn’t capable of feeling. Her so-called ‘cuteness’ had made no impression on me and mother kept putting her in my face as I mentioned in my last post. So one day I just woke up and accidentally on purpose sprayed her kennel with the generous contents of my bladder. This would have been enough to let someone know how I felt about her. You would think that anyone with half a brain would get the message from what you might call an obviously vulgar gesture on my part, but no, not her. The infernally persistent creature continued to follow me around, now and then sniffing around my male belly looking for teats. As though there was any possibility of them sprouting on my hairy chest if she kept at it!
The family returned and mother, in her obvious bid to overcompensate me, was overdoing her love for me to the point where it seemed unnatural. Talk about being guilty and all that! She asked the staff at home if “we” had become friends in her absence and they informed her that the prospects of that happening were bleak as I had growled at the over friendly Tiffany several times while the family was away. A disapproving eyebrow or two was raised in my direction before she proclaimed that we all ought to be patient and by the summer Tiffany and I would be inseparable. Her optimism in life and faith in me moves me to tears. But I would be lying if I told you that it was enough to make me change my mind about the pup.
In the family’s absence I did catch her chewing up mother’s pile of books kept on the lower shelf of the rack and a few other sundry items within the reach of someone a little taller than a caterpillar. But I have shown stoic refrain from standing in her way because, and pardon me for relying on so many cliches, but it is oh-such-fun to watch someone dig their own grave.
This morning was particularly interesting as mother woke up and screamed in horror when she saw an unusually sober Tiffany sitting in a corner with a moss green face. I wonder how completely oblivious she was of the fact that she looked any different since the previous night. It seems tat the scavenging imbecile had found a tube of oil paint in the children’s room and because she seems to live by the principal of ‘when in doubt eat it’, she sank her teeth into it only to have it rupture all over her furry face and the living room floor.
I would have preferred had mother not L’Occitaned her yet again and left her looking like some kind of a decaying pantomime artist. But she lathered her face, washed her up and then plugged in a hair dryer to blast dry her face. You should have seen just how perfectly that scared our intrepid friend.
She smelt like a lemon orchard for the rest of the day and I could not bear to sit next to her. Us dogs don’t like perfumed things as you might know and do not treat dogs that do not smell like dogs with respect.
Be that as it may, I am looking at mother in a new light. You see, there are enough stray puppies on the street and if you were a person of even the slightest degree of compassion in you, you would bring home one such puppy. Instead you find a pup that looks like the Harrods teddy and have long, over familiar conversations with some breeder in another city and organize for her transportation. Then you take her pictures all day long marveling sighing and gasping at her pristine beauty. How truly shallow!
I must concede however that even though I have not taken any fancy to this dog, her arrival has added a new sense of adventure to my life because living under the same roof with Tiffany is like being a prop on the set of a giant slapstick comedy set. Cupid may be nowhere near the corner but Gelos is smiling wholeheartedly at us indeed. Besides, aren’t I having the last laugh?
The only wise dog in the house,