Handsomestestest......!My blog would be rather incomplete without a mention of the two who mean the world to me…or rather, without whom life wouldn’t be life. One is my doggie Mowgli, and one is the man who will have my heart forever…
This one’s for Mowgli :)
A three-year-old black-n-white stunner. Whether he’s black with white spots, or white with black spots is a question that leaves us family folks scratching our heads. He flew to us from Bangalore when he was less than a month old. We reckon he hated the trip, because, though he jumps into the car as soon as the key clinks and enjoys a fast drive with the wind billowing at his ears and making them flap, he squeals and squeals and SQUEALS the moment the drive goes beyond the minute-long stretch between gran and our place – it’s possible, we’ve gathered, that he’s worried we’ll take off at the end of the runway!
Now, dalmations are pointers, and Mowgli proves he’s part of the ‘real’ thing. A slight noise, or sight of a scurrying squirrel, prowling cat, racy rat, podgy pig, or anything other than what’s known to him, and his right leg will fold up at the knee as if in a reflex, and point towards the movement or sound! That he’s the ‘real thing and all’ is fine, but his tail kinda gives something away. The way it refuses to stretch straight out or curve brilliantly downwards makes us laugh. It curls upwards, exposing his little red bum (sorry for the details, but we find it absolutely CUTE!). But, it doesn’t matter – For us, nothing can be more real than Mowgli.
Seeing him with his bone is a real treat. He’ll spring back and forth the house, pull back the bed covers, shove the bone in, and then replace the cover with his nose, all the while eyeing us carefully to gauge if we’ve any clue about his hiding place! If he even gets a whiff of the fact that we know, he’s off again, poking around for a new and better hideout. A master at work!
But, the real Master in him comes forth when he gives love…which is ALL the Time, actually. Come home, and he’ll bound up to you to be petted. Mention the word ‘come’ or ‘bye’ in any conversation, and he’ll race to the door, say ‘Woooo Wooo Wooo’ which we take as ‘You said it mate! Let’s go!’. Say ‘Mownooo (that’s just one of his other hundred pet names), give kissy’, and he’ll look up to your face and kiss you smack on the lips. (That – I proudly say – I’ve taught him :P). Say ‘Putushh, do sleepy’, and he’ll trot with you to the bed, wait for you to snuggle under the rajai and hold it up for him to curl against you too. He won’t sleep on his mattress, unless one of us sleeps with him! As well as he understands, he speaks too. We know exactly what he wants through his different barks – whether it’s nature’s call, a sudden fancy to chase the cats downstairs, a desire for a biscuit, time for a drive and visit to gran’s house, hunger pangs or sudden urge to pour kisses on us…we just know. Like dad says, ‘The only thing left is for him to just say the words!’
I wouldn’t say ‘bundle of joy’ to describe Mowgli. No. Mowgli is ‘Joy’ personified.
I thank my stars for looking after him when he flew through them to reach us…
This one’s for Mowgli :)
A three-year-old black-n-white stunner. Whether he’s black with white spots, or white with black spots is a question that leaves us family folks scratching our heads. He flew to us from Bangalore when he was less than a month old. We reckon he hated the trip, because, though he jumps into the car as soon as the key clinks and enjoys a fast drive with the wind billowing at his ears and making them flap, he squeals and squeals and SQUEALS the moment the drive goes beyond the minute-long stretch between gran and our place – it’s possible, we’ve gathered, that he’s worried we’ll take off at the end of the runway!
Now, dalmations are pointers, and Mowgli proves he’s part of the ‘real’ thing. A slight noise, or sight of a scurrying squirrel, prowling cat, racy rat, podgy pig, or anything other than what’s known to him, and his right leg will fold up at the knee as if in a reflex, and point towards the movement or sound! That he’s the ‘real thing and all’ is fine, but his tail kinda gives something away. The way it refuses to stretch straight out or curve brilliantly downwards makes us laugh. It curls upwards, exposing his little red bum (sorry for the details, but we find it absolutely CUTE!). But, it doesn’t matter – For us, nothing can be more real than Mowgli.
Seeing him with his bone is a real treat. He’ll spring back and forth the house, pull back the bed covers, shove the bone in, and then replace the cover with his nose, all the while eyeing us carefully to gauge if we’ve any clue about his hiding place! If he even gets a whiff of the fact that we know, he’s off again, poking around for a new and better hideout. A master at work!
But, the real Master in him comes forth when he gives love…which is ALL the Time, actually. Come home, and he’ll bound up to you to be petted. Mention the word ‘come’ or ‘bye’ in any conversation, and he’ll race to the door, say ‘Woooo Wooo Wooo’ which we take as ‘You said it mate! Let’s go!’. Say ‘Mownooo (that’s just one of his other hundred pet names), give kissy’, and he’ll look up to your face and kiss you smack on the lips. (That – I proudly say – I’ve taught him :P). Say ‘Putushh, do sleepy’, and he’ll trot with you to the bed, wait for you to snuggle under the rajai and hold it up for him to curl against you too. He won’t sleep on his mattress, unless one of us sleeps with him! As well as he understands, he speaks too. We know exactly what he wants through his different barks – whether it’s nature’s call, a sudden fancy to chase the cats downstairs, a desire for a biscuit, time for a drive and visit to gran’s house, hunger pangs or sudden urge to pour kisses on us…we just know. Like dad says, ‘The only thing left is for him to just say the words!’
I wouldn’t say ‘bundle of joy’ to describe Mowgli. No. Mowgli is ‘Joy’ personified.
I thank my stars for looking after him when he flew through them to reach us…
