Tail of Totto

Totto’s tail is my object of appreciation…it is bushy. It, like any other dogs tail, is an indicator of his moods. It works as a swipe card; if it wags, which does not happen often, you are allowed entry into our premises. If this posterior does not activate into a wag-wag, a thump-thump, a whish-whoosh or attains an apprehensive wiggle-waggle stance or remains inactive altogether, it means trouble…stay put baby!

Recently, that bush got a thorough trimming, for which I got many a dirty looks. For days, I had to avoid his scathing sideway glances. One ought to have observed him (if one is cynical, apprehensive, skeptical or doubtful about his understanding of the human language) when Mr Mehra, our neighbor, remarked that he was looking like a mutated sheep with his hair cut in steps. He managed to avoid his glare and a casualty was averted.

Sometimes he does not hesitate to indicate that he is not happy amongst us, that he requires and deserves better servants. Try having your meals without serving him, the self acclaimed master of the house, and face his wrath. When not in a vindictive mood, he would sit there at your feet…drooling. Utter disgust would compel you to serve him. At other times though, he would give you one of those ‘say-it-all’ looks, which may be translated thus: “You petty, servile, good for nothing human, just remember you come too low in my understanding of the food chain to take such liberties as forgetting to feed me!. In such cases, sheer fright would compel you to serve him.

He is a friendly ‘dog’. Yes, I am not one of them (I cannot use the expression ‘owner’ as who owns whom is questionable at my place) who would take pride in asserting that the canine who lives with them should not be addressed as a dog and that he is a member of the family and blah blah blah, out of their so-called ‘love’ for the animal. For me, he is a dog…was always so. And, in fact, during our duals I make it clear that is a DOG! However, intoxicated by his own sense of superiority, the expletive seems to have a therapeutic effect on him. I hate to admit it, but in most of our silent duals, I have been left speechless…cryptic, no…consider this:

On one occasion, upon being amply demeaned by my cousins on his messy eating habits, he questioned their set of etiquettes. Challenged them into licking their respective plates clean. Told them that it was sloppy and artless on how they could not clean, not even touch, the tip of their nose with their tongue! True, even if we had sacrificed the human sense and set of table manners, we could not have managed the latter. He won.

On another occasion, he seemed to comment—“J Lo butt eh?” What is so special about that one? How can anyone of your specie find a posterior as incomplete and anatomically incorrect as that, fascinating? No tail? How can you even balance yourself? He won…hands down this time.

The superior being in him made us sign a pact. A ‘selective-barking pact’. This happened four years ago. Our fond wish of having a guard dog received a severe blow when His Highness showed no inclination or desire to use his vocal chords. No amount of ‘hush hushes” and shoo’s could activate his lethargic being. Upon seeing a human visitor at our doorstep and then the expectant look at our faces, he seemed to question us back? —“What? You expect me to bark? I mean, excuse me, but it is one of your kind; if you do not want a visitor, you bark at him. I will attend to my kinds only…I think it is fair enough.” Since then, his woofs, snarls, growls, barks and occasional yelps are exclusively for his fellow beings that happen to pass his territory.

Dr Yadav, Totto’s vet however, has some control over him. Due to some unknown reason, he does not behave like a super alpha with him and the vet manages to get away with some cruel remarks. Like, quite early (when Totto was hardly a year old), he had predicted that he was a dog prone to tantrums and that thus, he might become a morsel monger. And it happened. On our second visit, the vet surprised both of us by addressing him as Mr Bora. ‘Bora’ in Hindi stands for a sack…he called him a ‘sack of potatoes’ with fat bulging at odd angles. I managed to suppress a smile but the attendant burst out in a peal. Totto was hurt.

Similarly, the last time I met him, he thanked me for helping him diversify his area of practice. Puzzled, I enquired why. Making sure that Totto was out of earshot, he revealed on how, all thanks to Totto, he was confident that he could treat elephants and hippos. I managed to get the undertone of sarcasm and so did Totto it seems. I did catch a glimpse of him trying to mark the vet’s car parked outside.

By the way, Chandramukhi, an emaciated, stricken and withered looking dogess is his romantic interest. For him to have chosen that measly mongrel, his love must seriously have been blind. He is not to be shaken from his loyalty however and behaves like a much enamored ‘devdas’ whenever she passes through our lane.

Needless to say that despite his imperial attitude, he is my smiling factor. My saviour from cockroaches and bigger species. On our routine walks, he is the one who keeps the roadside romeos and sickly strays at bay. He is my knight in a sheared armour.