Dogma of Dogs

Dogs, who doesn't love them. Those furry tail-wagging pet delights bouncing up and down at the sight of their family, leaving merry trails of dollops of drool, wolfing down their dog food, non dog food and sometimes even non food, messily lapping up from their bowls, and sometimes (much to the mortification of the housemates) toilet bowls..

My brother and I had always wanted a pet dog and have many a times futilely tried to coax our parents into letting us have one. My mom would cheerfully agree how adorable dogs are. But just as we got to discussing about adopting one she would suddenly remember a saree she had to iron or a plant that was wilting bone dry from not being watered for over four hours and swiftly rush to the obviously more important tasks that was keeping our house together. And my dad would open the newspaper and shake it up a bit and get to reading the editorial section as soon as he heard us mentioning dogs. And that was that.

As a child, I grew up watching Scooby-Doo, Goofy, Pluto, Droopy, Courage The Cowardly dog, The Popeye Show, SpongeBob SquarePants, Dexter's lab… Alas, I digress. That's to say, I grew up enticed by dogs and pups. I would pet random stray dogs, share my lunch with a couple of dogs that roamed inside my school campus, rub the belly of my friends' pet dogs, you get the picture. 

But like every good piece of literature, my story also has its peripeteia and my pronounced love for dogs has now turned to flat-out petrification. 

One late evening, after a hectic day at office, I was enjoying the smoky, dusty, chemical-laden "fresh" air outside our office. That is all was one to expect at Jigani industrial area, Bangalore where my office was at. (I am a bit popular among my friends for making most of what I have, and cheerfully so. *Beams proudly*) 

So as I stood there, with my best friend Mahima, my other colleagues, and my then boss, Fitze, abusing our lungs, waiting for the already late cab to carry us back home, I saw this handsome mighty adorable collared dog walk our way. Dark as it was, I couldn't immediately make out what breed he belonged to. Now i am someone who believes, a breed is to dog as caste is to man, darn it, that's right! So a complete no no for discrimination of dogs based on caste.. er i mean breed. 

The muscular build, the short broad muzzle, the softly floppy ears, the careful, calculated, steady strides towards me, all of these must have been screaming caution at me. But my slightly intoxicated state, thanks to the "fresh" air and my yearning for a jolly good playmate just until I got into the cab quite tilted away my caution antenna, which was now feeding a soothing white noise to my brain. He, the fellow dog, reached me. I must admit, I was a tad taken aback as he walked closer and I assessed, his snout would reach well above my waist. I couldn't also help think that he could go for my throat if he wanted to and he wouldn't even have to sweat for it. And I wouldn't really have a say in it, would I?

What should've been adrenalin pumping in my blood, mistakenly turned out be to oxytocin. All these scary thoughts that just flashed in my head made me want to pet him, rub behind his ears, cuddle him and noshey-kisshey him all the more. And I paid heed to my instinct. Obtusely. 

The reluctant beast shied away from my pats on his head. From behind me, Fitze was calling out to me telling it was a Rottweiler and that they are known to be ferocious. And that I should walk back when I still could. But me being me, gently, lovingly, totally unnecessarily, convinced him I wasn't trying to hurt him. Pfft. Yeah. Right. He took a step back. I took a step forward. He bowed down, I took it as an okay from him to pat him. I touched him. Once. Twice. I reached behind his ears slowly to rub him some. Sounds almost romantic, doesn't it? It was everything that wasn't. 

The beast suddenly looked up at me. Slightly baring his teeth. From behind me, Fitze was cautioning me. Almost shouting at me to move back. But no. The sweet dog was just puppy-eyeing me. Or was he? 

Before I knew it, the dog had taken a giant step forward and half leaped on me, front paws on both my shoulders. He was looking at me dead in the eye. My adrenal gland woke up from its slumber party. But now my muscles were locked up. Nah ah. Wouldn't move. **Great loud thumps of my heart and a lot of blood rushing to my ears and my head that I hadn't been using until a minute ago**

Buuuut....Fitze man to the rescue! He glided behind me unnoticed and slowly put his hand out to me. I was still gaze-locked with the he-dog. Tongue wagging, drool dripping, his breath warm on my terror-stricken face.. Fitze casually asked me to take his hands. The last thing I wanted was the scar of the dog's teeth mark running across my cheeks and nose. So for once, I finally did as I was told. 

Fitze held my hand gingerly and started walking towards the cab that had arrived by then. That darned driver had chosen the right evening to be late. Curses on him. I followed Fitze. As did the dog. He was hopping with me, paws still on my shoulders. Still looking at me intently, as if to dare me to approach another random dog ever again. I tried not to break the glance, lest he pounce on me or chew away my nose or do something more horrific. 

In a swift movement, Fitze pulled me free from the dog, pushed me into the cab and closed the door right behind me, walking away coolly puffing out rings of smoke. I have never thanked the man enough for saving me that day. Outside, the dog tried to determine what really had happened, paced right outside my window a couple of times before walking away. I breathed out. I was alive. Ah.  

I turned around to understand what else had happened by then and realised everyone had been laughing their heads off at me the whole time. Especially Mahima. That mean person was still laughing, face flushed, tears rolling down her cheeks, holding her stomach and rocking back and forth in her seat. She was laughing so hard, I almost found myself questioning why I became friends with her in the first place. Someone else even walked up to me and showed me a photo of mine that he had clicked while the dog was still cuddling me. Yeah, it turns out the nasty beast was trying to ahem-ahem with me. My ears were hot with embarrassment when Mahima, amidst her breathless guffawing croaked out that the dog tried to lurrve me in very special ways. My throat and lips parched, my eyes refusing to shut and my hyper dilated pupils refused to shrink back to their normal size. At the end of it all, I was monumentally grateful to my stars that I didn't get a very public dose of the unspeakable dog-love or lose a chunk of my face to some macho looking punk-dog stranger. That was enough for a life time. And some more.

And so dogs, stay away from me while I stay away from you. Shoo.