Wednesday, September 26, 2007

Adventures of Pintoo

Aaah! Save me! Save me! That burns! Oooh! No...............No................



"Poof" Pant,pant............Just a dream! Thank Dog! Oh hello there. You must be wondering who is this doggone dog? Well to answer your question: me call meself Pintoo. Yeah yeah, 'Aaaww' me all you want, but the fact is that I lead a rough tough life that most of you have least imagined.



Well. Why, you ask? See, I'm a white dog with a smattering of brown, with cute floppy ears & unconventional good looks. I call Mumbai my home. To be specific, Haji Ali. Yes, I'm a townie not a burbie! (these terms amuse me). My home territory extends from Haji Ali Juice Center to Lotus. Occasionally, I may wander about near Mahalaxmi temple (at my own risk, of course) but most of the time, I'm pretty happy with my stretch of the sidewalk, what with the loverly view of the sea & all.



Now, about my heritage. Hmm. I don't know who my dad was but I'm pretty sure my mom was an uncaring, heartless bitch who was least bothered by her litter of 7 pups (me included). Yeah, she was sexy & all, & almost every dog on her block was after her but I must say, she was not very motherly. Atleast, not to the batch I was born in. Sadly, old Darwin's claim of 'survival of the fittest' meant that only the strongest of us survived with whatever little nourishment we got. She hardly ever stayed more than ten minutes at a time while we jostled for her teats. I know, she was quite anorexic after giving birth to us (Coincidentally, it used to be fashionable at one time. But personally i like a girl witha lil sumthin sumthin. 'Fat but fit' is my motto).



Anyhoo, five of us managed to survive, thanks mainly to 2 humans (surprisingly pleasant-looking individuals. Surprising, because to my blood shot eyes , humans are butt-ugly).

They fed us milk (cow's), softened biscuits, moistened bread; forced deworming tablets down our throats & fed us fortified, vitamin-rich liquid (?) with a tiny dropper. Also, not to forget, a mashed up mish-mash of banana, egg white, & papaya. All in all, not bad.





Anyhoo, whatever i say about my parents, i can't argue bout their genes. They passed down them tight genes, i'm glad to say.




Hmm..about my social life.Well, i'm not a social butterfly or anything. More like a social moth. I s'pose i'm amiable enough. My closest friend is a wise old dog called Banjul who lives (well, mostly just sluggishly sits around) inside a lane near Mahalaxmi temple. But there's a pack of aggressive dogs outside & around this lane who fiercely guard their territory. Once i almost got nipped while coming out after a lil chat with old Banjul. Sometimes he gets a bit lonely, or his perpetual ear infection acts up & he needs some cheering up (that's where i come in). Anyhoo, the leader of the pack of aggro dogs is a malicious, middle-aged prick called Cackle. Mind you, any sane one would keep his distance from old Cackle. Me, i just rush past them into Banjul's lane. It's almost like a friggin game. Thankfully, they don't follow me in coz Banjul's caretaker is a frightful old fella who sells trinkets for a living. He personally hates Cackle & his gang coz they keep up their barking all thru the night & he doesn't get his beauty sleep (the bags under his eyes make him look all the more frightful). Anyways, whenever he spots one of them, he chases them away with a baton. (Hmm...wonder where he got that??). But he doesn't mind me, coz he don't even know where i live, but i like to think he thinks i have a calming effect on Banjul. Or is it the other way round?







Banjul & I swap stories of the war (just kiddin) & our childhood; we bitch about other dogs we know; & talk about past loves. Banjul claims he's fathered countless pups in his heyday. For all we know, he might be a grandpappy & a great-grandpappy & a great-great-grandpappy & well, you get the point.





Me, in all my 3 years of existence, I've "fallen in love" only once. It was a little more than a year ago. There i was, one sunny morning, lazing about on my footpath & suddenly, I hear a dainty pitter-patter & look up to see a scented poodle. I'd never seen one in my life & i was intoxicated, watching her waddle by. She was walking beside her owner, a 20-something average Joe who was busy gazing over our heads at the sea. She was brushed to perfection, her blue diamond-studded collar gleaming & her nose turned up with a look that said "i'm too good for you, boy". Well, i never in my life thought i'd fall for a snooty rich bitch like her, but then, i just did.

To cut the crap, let me just say, that, well, she was too good for me & i just had to find a way to get on with my sorry life. Anyway, that wasn't too hard, cauz after a couple of months, they stopped coming there for their early bird walks.





There was this one time i was wandering about aimlessly when i came across a cat carcass. It smelt worse than my shit when i suffer from loose motions. It was already half devoured by maggots (many millions, from tiny thin strips to fat, squiggly, mushy ones). As i looked on, i heard a tiny scream.I bent my head closer to the messy lump & saw one of them squishy fat ones screaming its head off. I held my breath & leaned in even closer to hear exactly what the bloody thing was trying to say.


"Help, help!! Save me! I don't like it here! Help! I want out! SAVE MEEEE!!!!"


For a second, i thought i hadn't heard right. I mean, by the looks of it, i would have thought that this fat 'un having its fill was one happy bunny. But it really was screaming for help - "Please, mistah dog! You gotta help me.I'm being trampled by my bruddas & sistas & i just wanna get outta this mass of squirming maggots. Please listen to me, mistah. MISTAAA!!!


Now i was really curious. It's not everyday you come across a friendly maggot with a lame fake accent. So i hunted around for a stick & helped the maggot out. It gradually slid its way up just above my left ear. After thanking me profusely, it introduced itself as Faggot. So i walked away from the stench slowly, with Faggot the maggot whispering sweet nothings into my ear.


Here is its tale of self-pity -

Faggot was born on the cat carcass along with many others of its disgusting kind (Faggot's words, not mine, though i tend to agree). But it was a unique, different & weird maggot from the start. While regular ones are addicted to rotting flesh & gorge on it, Faggot here was simply repulsed by the very thought. But it was forced to eat to stay alive. And it hated the whole lot of its clan.They all taunted Faggot & termed it "WEIRDO". All in all, it was a disgruntled little maggot, revolted by its way of life.


So then there was the question of how Faggot was going to survive, huddled behind my ear, with nothing to compulsively consume. But then i had one of my brilliant ideas & caught a rat near one of the many city drains. I proudly presented it to Faggot, saying "It's a fresh kill. So eat up now fast before the flies start arriving".

Faggot slid out to the dead rat & took a bite before saying "I'm done". I was aghast. "Done?" I asked incredulously. "One bite for all the effort i put into getting you this meal?!"

Faggot nodded its fat lil head meekly. "Well then", I spat, "I know a way to put you out of your misery once & for all". Without thinking, i got out one of my sharp nails & stabbed Faggot right through its middle. I held it up in the harsh sunlight & slurped it right from my nail (Disgusting i know. But then i never was known for my dining ettiquette). And that was the end of Faggot the Maggot.

Well, all this back talk has made me sleepy so i'm gonna end this story too & find me a cozy corner where i'll be as snug as a bug in a rug (or was it as snug as 2 bugs in a rug? in a hug?? whatever too sleepy. sleeeepeeeeeeeeee sleeeeeepeeeeeeeeeeee). i know, it was an eerily real account.

3 comments:

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Anonymous said...

I loooooved this story especially Faggot the Maggot...that was the best part. Keep it up pigstyle and ur sistulllllllllllllluk

Mithila said...

i LOVE it!