Bolty

                               

Today I said goodbye to my dog, Bolt who we fondly called Bolty. We had to give him away to another family. He spent just four short years with us, but what eventful four years they were.

I still remember the day he came into our lives. He was just a few months old I think, bit large for his age. He scampered about the place sniffing new smells and licking new hands. The kids went nuts over his beautiful black and white fur. I admit, I was a bit weary of touching him. 

I'd always loved the idea of having a dog, but when it happen for real, I was a bit scared. I'd stood at the doorway and extended my arms as far as it could and stroked his back with a finger. And he responded by wagging his tail. Its one of the nicest feelings, a dog wagging his tail because of you.

Slowly, I got over my fear and soon I was spending every waking hour with him. Brushing his hair, using his special powder on him. One time I even put a bit of my dad's lavender talc powder on him.I loved his big soulful beautiful eyes, the colour of honey. The way he would just stare right back at you when you spoke to him, which I did a lot. 

My nephew decided to name him Bolt because he was in that phase where he'd binge watch the cartoon Bolt sixteen billion times a day. So, Bolt it was. Except, it was only later that we realised that Bolty wasn't a "he". Bolt was actually a female dog. But I'd gotten used to call her a "boy" that I refused to acknowledge the sex change. I hope he didn't end up having gender-issues. 

Bolty grew to love us and soon began bringing us his little "presents". Many a time, we opened the front door in the morning and was greeted by the sight of a dead crow or rat at our doorstep. He managed to get pretty much all our chickens too, much to my mom's dismay. But Bolty did manage to prove his strengths soon enough. 

One of the times that I was most proud of him was when he spotted a cobra and barked madly right at its face, preventing it from coming any closer towards our house. I'd never seen him so brave and ferocious before. His nose could've almost touched the snake. After a while, he stopped and sat right there, his eyes on the snake, growling everytime it hissed back at him. I don't know how long he sat there like that, but we knew this dog knew what he was doing. 

Then one morning, there was no Bolty at our doorstep. My dad hunted all over the place for him. We could hear him howling but couldn't figure out where he was. Turns out he had jumped into the well. And had been swimming around trying to keep himself afloat for hours. It took a few hours and lot of effort, but we found a guy who could go down the well and rescue Bolty. 

A group of men lowered this guy into the well using a rope and he was trying to jostle Bolty into a huge basket. I remember watching with bated breath and calling out the frightened dog's to reassure him that he'd soon be safe. He got into the basket once but scampered so hard that he fell into the water again. After a bit of a struggle, the dog was back in the basket and the men were pulling him up. I remember wrapping my arms around him the minute his feet hit the ground. He was shivering and could hardly walk straight. After trying to dry him as much as I could, I slowly led to a spot with good sunlight and let him dry off. 

The rest of the day, we lavished him with eggs and milk and all sorts of goodies, while drying him off with my sister's hairdryer. It took many days to recover from the shock of it all, but soon he was back to running around like crazy and trying to knock me off my feet by jumping onto me. I love that he still remembered.

Pretty soon, Bolty had grown up and had a lot male friends visiting at night. My dad was not pleased, so he'd lock the gates and drive away any stray dog that dared to enter. This one dog would stand at the gate and howl away. It was utterly romantic. And I'm pretty sure that that Romeo had something to do with the litter of puppies Bolty gave birth to a few months later. 

I remember waking up one morning and hearing the news. Bolty was lying in a cozy spot with her tiny little puppies scattered all around her, some on top of each other. I had never seen such tiny puppies up close. Nine of them. Bolty looked tired as ever.

There was a look in her eyes, that seemed to say "Please get me the hell out of here." I didn't understand then, why she looked like that, but now as a mother of a child, I totally get it. One human baby suckling away all night and day is Nothing compared to Nine puppies fighting and struggling and crying all together to get their share of their mom's milk. Poor Bolty. She would take any opportunity to leave her kids alone and just laze around for a bit. 

After this my life got into a bit of a whirlwind. Between marriage and moving and pregnancy, I did not really get to spend a lot of time with Bolty. But everytime, I come back home, he'd recognize me and jump around me like crazy. 

Towards the end, the time I got to spend with him reduced even more, having a baby to care for. Bolty too produced a new batch of puppies. And this time, having gone through the experience myself, I was in total awe of him. 

So today morning, when my mom told me that his new owners arrived and took him away, I couldn't believe I didn't get to say goodbye. My dad then told me that they are still waiting for their car at the gate, I dropped everything, took hold of my baby and ran to the gate. And he was there on leash, with a stranger, looking confused and scared. 

I caressed his head and scratched his ear and rubbed his chin over and over as though trying to make up for the time I'd neglected him. I held onto his face and looked into his eyes and said a silent goodbye as tears started pooling in my eyes. I gave him a final pat on his back and walked away because I couldn't watch him getting into the car and being driven away. I couldn't stop my tears as I walked back into the house. My baby looked at my face curiously. And just like that, Bolty was gone.

The night feels silent now. On most nights, after his random rounds and digging, Bolty used to come and settle down right outside my bedroom window. Some days he'd make an awful racket and I'd get mad at him, but I was still relieved he was there. I had felt safe. And in spite of all the times I'd been too busy to make time for him and been a lousy friend, he still sat there... for me, protecting me. I so love that about him.

I hope his new owners treat him well. And I hope he is happy there. I wonder if he'll miss us. I miss him already.  We'll probably never have a dog again, but then I don't think he can be replaced. I hope someday that my child will get to experience all this with a dog of her own. A dog as wonderful and loyal as my Bolty. 

Thank you, Bolty, for letting me experience unconditional love. For making me feel safe and for being my friend. 

Life After Marriage

I started writing this post ages ago. Never got around to finishing it. I figured I better post it now before my life changes all over again and this would seem irrelevant. 

It has been a year and a half since I got married. And I don't think the fact that I'm a wife has still settled in. Though there has been a few random changes in me. Few things that were new or weird to me. Here are the things that are different since I tied the knot.

FAT : For people who thought "This girl is so skinny, when'll she ever get some flesh on her bones", your wait is over. I am officially fat. I know slightly overweight people will look at me and scoff thinking "you call that fat?". But for a person who could still fit into her 6th grade tights at age 27, yes I am fat now. Forget bout 6th grade clothes, I don't even fit into the 100s of clothes I got just before the marriage. At first I thought my clothes were shrinking because of the water or something. Then in a picture, I noticed my upper arm is now the size of both my upper arms together. And I had to throw away 3 pairs of jeans because I couldn't put the button on. These are things I have never ever witnessed before. It was almost scary. All of my sisters' clothes used to be too loose for me. Now I don't even fit into their tiny-miny clothes. I've become a friggin giant! The saddest moment was when my collar bones were no longer visible. They were the favouritest part of my body. And now they've gone, without a warning. All the aunties who kept bugging me to put on more weight are now like "whoaaaa, don't put on any more, okay?" I thought I was the kinda person who'd never get fat. Apparently not. Thankfully, my husband has also joined me in this fat journey. So we don't look weird together.

PET : The only pets I've ever had up until then were dogs. That stayed outside. Who I pet and played and fed on some days. My dad took care of them all the other days. I was completely oblivious to their existence on most days. Until I got married to a crazy animal lover. The first thing he got was a tiny little frog. Which was cute. It hardly ever did anything. Feeding it was fun and I didn't have to do the cleaning. And then we got a tiny little turtle. Which was adorable too. It kept escaping from its container and we'd frantically search for it. We figured the frog and the turtle could be friends. All very cute until the turtle chewed the frog's leg off. After a tearful burial of the frog, we went and got a rabbit. A tiny lil adorable fur ball. Who would climb up our back while we were sleeping and curl up in my arms like a little

baby. Who shit like crazy and peed all over our until then clean room. Who died on the third day, before we could even name him. The rabbit dying was just too much for me to take. No more pets, I said. And then proceeded to get two more rabbits (both which died), another turtle (who died) and finally a snake. Yes, a snake. Wasn't my idea. Don't even ask. And no, I do not touch it. We now live with a cat. And people who know me knows that I'm not exactly a cat-lover. So I'd rather not comment on the cat. Or this whole blog post will end up being about it.

SILENCE : The place where I live now is very very quiet. My in-laws are quiet people and everyone does everything quite quietly. Back in my house, I usually wake up to the sound of a toddler singing at the top of her voice, another one crying out her lungs,the neighbor and his singing class, the mixie in the kitchen whirring, the maids chattering, the t.v blaring, the dog barking madly, my dad yelling at someone or the other and my mom laughing hysterically on the phone. We also have a radio in every room. There are days when I'm back home and I miss the silence. But on most days, the silence here is almost deafening. I find it especially hard to fart or burp loudly because I feel the sound echoes.Although sometimes I feel the silence is soothing.

LIVING WITH A BOY : I grew up in a house full of girls. Even if I go visiting my cousins, I have a total of 38 girl cousins and some 9 or 10 boy cousins. (It took me a while to calculate that) So life for me had been predominantly around girls. Most of my closest friends are also girls. So life with a boy, I figured was going to be really really new for me. Surprisingly though, the boys in this house are a lot like me. In fact, I feel I'm messier and slobbier than them. Boys are surprisingly neat. I'm the one who usually leaves the wet towel on the bed. And the leaving the toilet seat up doesn't really bother me because it makes sense to do that because there are more men in the house. But then again there has been so many instances where I've been surprised by something my husband or his brother does which has had me raising my eyebrows like "Really? You're allowed to do that?"
Boys don't seem to care much about a lotta stuff like girls do. Like they don't go out and buy a new pair of shoes and then find the need to show it everyone in the family and discuss all its wonderfulness. They're very particular about their stuff. If you move their things from the middle of the room into a more reasonable location, they get all mad about it. And its not like you mean to forget where you moved it. I discovered a lot about boys and their underwear habits. Which I'd rather not discuss here and get murdered by my husband.

FOOTBALL, CARS AND BOY MOVIES : I used to watch football even before I got married, but then that was because this game was so much easier to understand than cricket. And also, David Beckham. Now I'm proud to say, I know names of players who aren't David Beckham. I know most of the teams in English Premier League. I know what an English Premier League is. I have watched matches from the beginning to the end without siding with the team who had the cuter players. I have watched a match in a public place around other football enthusiasts and not felt completely out of place. I have also worn a football jersey on many occasions. (Though my husband is always scared I'll spill something on it) And I also somewhat kind of know what offside means too. Its when someone scores a goal and noone shouts and scream excitedly.

I didn't know much about cars at all. When someone once asked what my favorite car is, I googled the most expensive car or something and learnt the name Lamborgini. Now, I can identify some cars. And I get it right most of the time. And I found out that the year makes a difference in the model of the car. And now when I hear Ford, I don't always think of my dad's dear old Ford that he drove us around in for 14 years, I think Mustang. I think of Shelby or Cobra.
I used to be a hard-core fan of chick flicks. I change channels until I see a movie with nice bright lighting and and upbeat background music. My action movie knowledge is limited to Speed and Mission Impossible, maybe. In the past two years, I've watched more action movies to make up

for all the action movies I've missed out on my whole life. And I've found that I loved most of them. I was completely floored by Iron Man. He is absolutely the coolest superhero ever. Sometimes I bargain with my husband and make a deal for one boy movie if he watches one girl movie with me. But it doesn't faze him. He falls asleep sometimes but most of the time he holds his court pretty well. Once I made him watch Pirate Fairy, a Tinkerbell cartoon, as a joke because he made me watch a lot of boy movies in a row. And he got more interested in the cartoon than I did. I thought I'd just make him watch for a few minutes until he begs me to stop it. Instead he made me watch a good half hour and watched the rest of it on his own. My evil plan completely back fired.

LATE NIGHTS OUT : My dad wasn't exactly strict. But he wasn't exactly  the type who'd let us roam about outside after a decent hour. It wasn't really a big deal because I didn't really have anywhere to go either. But after marriage, when my husband suggested we go eat an ice cream at 2 in the morning, I was surprised and beyond excited. I've seen stuff like that in movies and I knew guys from my college who'd tell me about their midnight long drives and junk food rounds. Walking down that road in the silence of the night was one of the most romantic and exciting things ever. My husband was surprised and I'm not sure he understood what it meant to me. What I loved the most was that I felt safe.

So that's some of the changes I've gone through after marriage. There are so many many more, some mention-able and some not. But the fact is that I'm still changing. Everyday. I'm figuring things out as it comes, I'm making new discoveries. And I think that's what marriage is about. I'm not the person I was one and a half years ago. And I'm sure one and a half year from now, I'm going to be even more different. Life never seem to stay the same for too long nowadays. I'll see you guys at the next milestone. :)

A Furry Tail

It had been a terribly long day. 

At around 10pm, I got back home after helping my cousin with some work. I was tired and was looking forward to going to bed. At the gate, my dog awaited eagerly. I groaned. I mean, I love the lil fellow, but sometimes you just wanna be able to walk into your house upright and not have a 30 kilo over-excited puppy lunge at you. After a lotta puppy pushes, I managed to get into the house (not without a few scratches). 

Inside the house, I see a big fat cat strutting around like he owned the place. He was jumping from pole to pole over our heads and at each jump, I cringed a little. I mean, there is something very icky bout cats. I can't quite figure out what it is. But just looking at a cat makes my mind throw up a little. So while this furry feline tried all sorts of acrobats, I hurried outta the room because the last thing I wanted was for it to fall on my head. 

Later as I watched TV, my eyes kept drifting to the hole that the cat disappeared into. After a bit, I went to the kitchen to heat up some leftover pizza only to see it covered completely by ants. What nerve?! I mean ants would've eaten rotten wood with the same enthusiasm but they had to go and attack my precious pizza!? UGH!

After a bit more TV, I decided to head to bed. I went to my room and caught a glimpse of a shadow crawl under my bed. I frantically jumped on my bed and stood on tiptoes. Upon turning on the light, I saw yet another cat casually stroll out from under my bed. I opened a window so that the cat could find its way out, only to get shocked outta my skin when my dog stuck his head in through the window and barked at a bazillion decibels. Right then, I had just had it with animals! I was sick and tired of cats and dogs and chickens and ants and everything!

I went back to my room still grumbling. The whole room had a musty cat smell. I almost gagged. After spritzing my perfume about a bit, I sat staring at the window through which Cat No.2 had entered my room. I was too scared to reach out and close it because I was sure that a whole bunch of cats were there just waiting to feast on my arms. I managed to doze off after a bit and have a flurry of weird dreams about cats walking all over my bed and turning into vampires and biting my neck. 

Imagine my shock when out of nowhere, I hear a tiny Meowww! My eyes shot open and I looked around hurriedly. I checked under the bed. Nothing there either. It wasn't coming from outside either. Then finally, under a chair lay a cloth that had fallen there a few days ago that I kept meaning to put back in the cupboard. 

Inside it lay a tiny little fur ball. It couldn't have been hardly a day old. For a minute I wasn't sure if it was a cat or a mouse. It was literally that tiny. Then, I freaked. I felt like a mom who wasn't ready to become a mom but suddenly had a lil baby fall outta her all of a sudden. It was around 3 in the morning. I had no access to the internet right then or else I would've Googled the shit outta kitty-caring techniques. So instead, I called up a friend who I figured would be awake enough to shell out some advice. After 10 minutes of the world's most useless and pointless conversation, I was on all four staring at her. I had never seen a new born cat before. I got a little wistful because I swear she looked exactly like my niece did when she was born. The same long eyes and pink nose. Check out the pictures and you tell me if you don't see a similarity.

I wanted to touch her but just couldn't make myself do it. I put one finger on top of her head though. She stirred and I had a mini-heart attack. She started shivering a little. So I folded up a kurtha and laid it gently on top of her. I don't know why I figured its a she. Maybe because when she started crying, she wasn't meowing, she was literally crying. Like human babies do. A little whiny cry.

 I pulled at the cloth she was lying on to make sure there was just one. I always thought cats gave birth to like a dozen at once. I pushed the cloth down under my bed so that it would be warmer there. Then I grabbed my camera and took a coupla quick pictures. I wrote a note to my dad so that my dad doesn't accidently step on her or something the next morning. Wrote 'There's a kitten under my bed. What to do with it? Please don't kill it.'

Turned off the light and went to bed with names for the kitten whirling around in my head. Few minutes later, I hear someone clawing at my window. I shoot outta bed, grabbed a pillow, headed for my parents' bedroom and slept there. 

Next morning, I woke up to see her dragging herself around under the bed, crying for dear life. She couldn't even walk. And she kept falling over too. I had a quite a lotta aww moments in that 10 minutes. She did that eerie human cry again. 

I found the tiniest bowl I could and poured in some milk. I pushed the bowl under her nose. She toppled over and fell face-first into the bowl of milk. Oh crap, I've drowned it. But she lifted her head again, looked a bit confused, licked her mouth and then pretended to gag. And dragged herself away from the bowl. Well, excuse me for not being a gourmet milk chef. 

She kept crying so I stuck some old cloth into a box and sorta rolled the lil fur-ball into the box with a book.(I still wasn't too keen on touching it) She jumped outta there once. Swooping her up again, I placed her back into the box and while holding the box at an arm's distance, carried it to the staircases. I placed it at the foot of the stairs. 

I look up to see the mom-cat looking down at us. I point to the baby and quietly leave. I hide behind a door and peep to see the big reunion. I was hoping it'd be completely Karan Joharish style. I wait and wait and the stupid mom cat still wouldn't budge. I badly had to pee as well. (I still hadn't brushed my teeth or anything. Straight outta the bed and into this melodrama). 

Finally, I got tired of waiting and moved the box a few steps up, hoping that the little fella won't attempt to plunge into an early death now. Went to the bathroom. By the time, I was back after 15 minutes, both mom and daughter were gone. They're probably in my room upstairs cos when I went there later that day, it smelt of that same old musty cat smell. 

This is by far the most exciting thing that happen to me this year. Don't judge me, ok. Exciting-er things have happened to me. I'm keeping a low profile this year. Anyway, this incident made me feel like I'm living out an Enid Blyton story. Sure, it wasn't a goblin or pixie or talking doll or anything that I found under the bed. But there I was, grumbling about all the animals in the world and *Pling* this adorable little creature happens. There isn't an exciting or surprising ending to this story. Just that the lil kitten got to have a super awesome human-mom for a day. Who tried to drown her in milk. Umm...shhh! ;-)

All for a Speck of Happiness

I need a new best friend.

Uh, no...not a human one. Not an invisible one either, got enough of those. I meant the ultimate man's best friend..A Dog!

It's so dumb that the woman's best friend are supposed to be diamonds.. I mean Diamonds are rocks..an inanimate thing...and men get dogs.. How sad does that make women look? Hi, my best friend is a rock. That is just dumb. And so not true. Women's true best friend would be something like....um...chocolate ice creams and discount sales.. ok ok so they're inanimate things too but they're a lot more closer to dog than diamonds are.

Anyhow, I've been watching all these movies with dogs and cats and monkeys and stuff and how people seem so content with life with the whole slow-mo running in the wind and happy kind background music n all.. I want that.. I need a new happy quotient in my life. I figured it'd be fun. It'll be like looking after a little baby and I'm super good with babies. The only difference is not I'm not even a wee bit afraid of babies...like I am of dogs. I'm not thaat scared of dogs.. I mean I could look at them hours.. in pictures or on TV or from a distance. It's just the way they're always moving about.. as in there is no certainty as to what they'll do next. I can't live with the suspense that comes with dogs. And also, the barking. My neighbour's dog is just adorable well.. from this side of the wall. But when it starts barking in the middle of the night.. I mean, again there is no warning. It's like a gun shot. One minute its all quiet and cute and then WOOOOOOFF! Its like a bazillion decibels.. And I swear that is what is going to cause my heart to stop one day. I'm putting that neighbour's dog's name on my death note.

Okaaay.. so maybe dogs are not my best option. I considered cats, but their meow is just so whiny and clingy and yueaack.. Also its not just their meow thats yucky... This one time I was sitting in my balcony staring into nothingness, when I see this cat strolling along on the roof of my house. We make eye contact. I wondered if I should run (ok blah so I'm kinda scared of cats too. I'm scared of anything that has claws.) But then I figured it was at a safe distance so I settle down and decided to have a bit of a chat. It was the most attentive cat, I'd ever met. It never took my eyes off me throughout the conversation. But it was also highly inexpressive which made me feel a little awkward. All of a sudden the cat starts jerking its head back and forth, like a bad dance move. I'm like what the.. and BARF. Bright yellow liquid burst out of the cat's mouth. And so that is how I dislike all insensitive cats who throw up listening to your problems.

And finally it was my sister who helped me decide on my animal pal.. She got me not one not two not three but four best friends for my birthday. Kinds that don't shed fur or slobber or puke on you. She got me Chicken! Three female ones and one male. I was just thrilled. Sure, I've had a life-altering experience with a chicken in the past (too long to explain. will write as a whole different post someday) I decided to let bygones be bygones and welcome these charming creatures back into my life.

We got a little house build for them and painted it and everything. And one of the hens started laying eggs.. and when they hatched, I felt like a mom would when she sees her baby(s) for the first time. My mom said that we'd have to dye them green so as to camouflage them from crows and eagles. Which was great except then we could'nt find them later either amidst all the greens.

This one time one of the little chicks hurt its leg and dad brought it inside the house and me and my sister tried to feed it and everything. And we fixed it a bed inside a box and I sang it to sleep and ran to its side everytime it woke up in the night. It went right back to sleep when I cupped it in my hands. The whole happy feeling the movies showed were coming to life alright..........Until...

They all grew up and turned into.. well.. animals! They'd poop anywhere and everywhere. They do IT anywhere and everywhere with anyone. I swear, there was something really creepy about the way that rooster looked at me sometimes. Brrr..

And the worst of all.. you know how in movies and everything, they symbolize morning with a faint yet refreshing sound of rooster crowing.. and you're all like aaahh and feel nice and warm inside. right? Well, movies are nothing but a loada bull-crap. There is nothing refreshing or warm or nice bout a rooster crowing. Because first of all, my rooster has got its biological clock all messed up. It crows at 12 in the night then at 2 then again anywhere between 4 and 6. Messed up, I tell you. All of the chickens abandoned the nice home we built them and took to perching on the open windows of my bedroom. So when they do the whole cock-a-doodle-do.. which by the way is nothing like that, its like a creepy croak crossed between an agonizing yet blood-thirsty scream. And at that hour, its like a bloody Dolby system. At one point we had two roosters, one at each window. So when one stops the other would follow. Torture.. it was Ultimate torture. Up to a point where I would actually pry my eyelids open, grab a mop from the bathroom and wave it frantically out the window hoping to stick it through their throats. My dad was all like you shouldn't stop them, it's a part of their instincts and nature and blah.. So you sleep in my room then, I retort. Uh-uh no way.. Ha!

Finally we decided to give the roosters away. This lady my mom knew came by the house to pick them up one day. She needed help putting one of the roosters into a large bag. So I helped while the rooster looked at me for not more than a second with those beady black eyes and WHAM, pecked me nice and hard. He had gotten his revenge for all the mop poking nights.

I said goodbye to him then but I still have an ugly dark scar between my thumb and index finger to remember him forever. And ok I admit although I was ecstatic about being able to sleep in late, I missed seeing the lil fellow strut his stuff looking like he owned the place.

Maybe chickens are not the answer to lifelong happiness. They brought that much needed drama back into my life. And I'm grateful to them for that. As for a new best friend... I think I've got one in my fridge right now. A huge tub of chocolate ice cream! Yay! Nothing can beat that kind of happiness! Ta!