My Dog and Me – Poignant Ponderings of a Pet Parent

I wrote this article 3 years ago – in August 2014 – when my pet dog Sherry was very ill – yes – she fell ill in May 2014 – and her condition started deteriorating day by day. 

More than 4 months later – in December 2014 – Sherry passed away and went to her heavenly abode. 

We nursed her for over 10 months – from May 5, 2014 – when she fell ill – till her last day in December – December 17, 2014. 

This evening – while I was on my evening walk – a friend asked me about Sherry – and – I was overcome with nostalgic memories of Sherry. 

So – I thought that I would post this article which I wrote when Sherry was ill – you can gauge my emotions during those sad days... 

MY DOG AND ME

Poignant Ponderings of a Pet Parent

By

VIKRAM KARVE 

MY DOG AND ME

Till Sherry came into my life, I did not know that a human could get so deeply emotionally attached to an animal.

I never imagined that I would start loving my pet dog Sherry so dearly.

And I never expected that Sherry would love me so devotedly and become an inseparable part of my life.

For over 8 years, Sherry had been a tough healthy high-spirited dog.

And suddenly, Sherry fell ill, very ill, and as she lay in a critical condition on the examination table in the veterinary clinic, a frail skeleton, almost a lifeless shadow of her former self, the veterinary doctors painted quite a dismal picture – her blood reports were haywire, she had severe pancreatitis, her abnormal sugar levels indicated she had diabetes, so she could not be operated upon for her severe pyometra – things looked bad, very bad – it seemed that her chances of survival were quite bleak.

They gave us two choices:

1. Put her to sleep (Euthanasia or “mercy killing”)

2. Try our best to save her life and put in all our efforts and resources to nurse her out of her severe illness

While the first choice was being contemplated, I looked at Sherry.

Sherry looked at me.

I cannot forget the poignant loving look in her eyes.

I could read through the language of her eyes that Sherry wanted to live – the yearning look in her eyes indicated that she wanted to be with us.

We too wanted Sherry to be with us for as long as possible.

So we chose the second option, to try our best to save her life and nurse her back to health, and the next few days passed in a daze – daily visits to the veterinary clinic for Sherry’s treatment, her strict diet, her medicines, her twice a day injections of insulin, constantly sitting with Sherry, feeding her, talking to her and comforting her.

It was on one of these days, late at night, while comforting Sherry who seemed to be in agony, sitting with her and cuddling her, I switched on the TV, and what I saw was incredible – a fantastic coincidence.

The scene in the movie on TV was a mirror image of what I was doing at that moment.

Here, Sherry had put her head on my lap and I was lovingly caressing her neck.

And on the screen, there was an old man and a dog sitting in exactly the same manner, and the man was lovingly fondling the dog exactly as I was fondling Sherry.

Was it sheer coincidence, a quirk of serendipity – or was it an enigmatic message for me?

The scene on the TV screen before me was the episode of “Candy and his Dog” from the movie “Of Mice and Men”. 

OF MICE AND MEN

One of the most poignant books I have read is “Of Mice and Men” – a novella written by John Steinbeck, winner of the Nobel Prize.

OF MICE AND MEN was published in 1937 and it was John Steinbeck’s first successful book that brought him fame as an author.

The novel “Of Mice and Men” has been enacted as a play on stage and also has been made into a movie (which I was watching that evening on TV).

The setting of the story is a ranch in California during the Great Depression.

The narrative describes the volatile life on the ranch and the precarious relationships between human beings on the ranch – friendships and tensions between the migrant ranch workers (farmhands) themselves and also between the farmhands and the owners.

One of the book’s major themes, and its most poignant sub plot, revolve around Candy and his dog.

CANDY AND HIS DOG

It is said that a dog is a man’s best friend.

This statement aptly describes the relationship between Candy and his dog.

Candy has had his dog since he was a pup.

It is his only friend and companion. 

Candy has been alongside his dog for all of the dog’s life and has had a close relationship with his dog.

Candy remembers the time when he first got the dog.

He always proudly tells everyone that his dog was the best sheepdog.

Unfortunately, Candy’s dog, once a tough healthy impressive sheep herder, has now become blind, toothless, rheumatic, weak, and is in frail health due to old age.

A dominant ranch worker says to the ranch boss, and to the other ranch-hands present, that Candy’s dog is so old that he can hardly walk, the dog has no teeth, the dog is blind and deaf, the dog cannot chew, so Candy feeds him milk, and he asks the ranch boss to tell Candy to shoot his old dog.

All of them tell Candy that his dog is of no good to Candy, and the dog isn’t any good to itself too, since the animal is in misery due its old age infirmities – so why doesn’t Candy shoot the dog and relieve the dog of his suffering?

The ranch boss says that the dog is no good and remarks sarcastically: “…I wish someone would shoot me if I got old and (became) a cripple…”

All the ranch workers suggest that it would be best to shoot Candy’s old dog.

After hearing everyone, the ranch boss decides that since the sick old dog is a useless burden, it would be best to end its suffering by shooting it dead.

Candy is unable to “let go” and tries his best to hold on to his old blind, deaf and disabled dog for as long as possible.

Candy reminisces and tells everyone about the dog.

He describes the time when he first got the dog and mentions that it was the best sheepdog he has ever seen.

Candy harks back to the time when both he and the dog were useful and of great value to the ranch – he was the best ranch handyman and his dog was the best sheepherder.

Now Candy is crippled, as he has lost a hand in an accident, and he has become too old for vigorous work on the farm.

And Candy’s dog is in a similar situation – blind, deaf, disabled and too old to be of any use.

Candy has had his dog since he was a pup.

His dog is his only friend and companion on the ranch, especially after Candy is crippled after losing his hand the accident.

Candy pleads with everyone not to shoot the dog and begs to save the dog’s life: “…I am so used to him…I had him for so long…I had him since he was a pup…I herded sheep with him…You wouldn’t imagine if you look at him now, but he was the best sheep dog I have ever seen…”

But no one listens to his pleas, and the dominant worker called Carlson takes Candy’s dog outside to be shot and buried.

Candy’s dog is “put to sleep” and Candy is heartbroken when he hears the gunshot.

UTILITY VALUE – FATE OF THE “USELESS” WHO HAVE OUTLIVED THEIR USEFULNESS

The “mercy killing” of Candy’s Dog symbolizes the helplessness of valueless persons.

The dog is a metaphor for Candy himself – old and crippled and not of much use to anyone.

Maybe, for Candy, the fear he feels for his dog’s death is parallel to his own fear that when he has fulfilled his purpose and he is no long effectual, when he has outlived his utility, he too will be disposed of as readily as his dog.

The story of Candy’s dog serves as a harsh reminder of the fate that awaits anyone who outlives his usefulness.

To summarize, in the novel “Of Mice and Men” John Steinbeck has portrayed a poignant situation – the hapless ageing ranch worker Candy realizes that both he and his dog have “outlived their utility” when he helplessly watches the cruel way in which his beloved dog is treated.

Candy’s dog was once a great sheepherder.

But now the dog has become blind, deaf and disabled due to old age.

The dog can no longer herd sheep.

Candy’s dog has lost its usefulness – the dog no longer has “utility value”.

So, since the dog has become “useless” – the dog is shot dead.

Candy finds himself in the same position as the dog.

Candy realizes that just like his dog has lost its “utility value” – Candy himself has lost his “utility value.

Candy is anxious, and he is worried about his own future, and he speculates whether he would be fired from his job – if they could get rid of a “useless” dog, what prevents them from getting rid of a “useless” worker?

ME AND MY DOG

There was a time when I was the sole breadwinner for my family.

I provided for my family and I was “useful” to them.

I worked as a Naval Officer and I was “useful” to the Navy.

Today, after my retirement, as far as the Navy is concerned – I am a retired “veteran”  – and I am not “useful” to the Navy anymore.

Also – now, after my retirement – I am no longer the “breadwinner” – and my wife and children are financially independent.

So – as far as my family is concerned – in the “material sense” – I am “useless”.

As I told you earlier, I have a dog called Sherry.

Once upon a time, Sherry was a great guard dog (and for me, a loving companion).

Unfortunately, Sherry has been ill for the past few months.

Today, Sherry is a blind diabetic dog – she has diabetes and has lost her vision due to her diabetes.

Like Candy’s Dog – Sherry too has lost her “utility value”.

So – aren’t we in the same situation as “Candy and his Dog” so poignantly described in John Steinbeck’s masterpiece novel “Of Mice and Men”...?

I am “useless” thanks to my retirement.

Sherry is “useless” owing to her illness.

Me and My Dog – both of us have lost our “utility value” and have become “useless”.

Is that why we are holding on to each other with so much love and affection...?

VIKRAM KARVE

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Disclaimer: 

All stories in this blog are a work of fiction. Events, Places, Settings and Incidents narrated in the story are a figment of my imagination. The characters do not exist and are purely imaginary. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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Earlier Posted by me Vikram Karve under the title MY DOG AND ME in my academic creative writing journal blog at 8/03/2014 01:31:00 PM at url: http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2014/08/my-dog-and-me.html and as a part of the consolidated post on Pet Dog Parenting at url: http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2014/09/pet-dog-parenting-versus-ownership-tips.html  and  http://karvediat.blogspot.in/2014/11/me-and-my-dog.html

Remembering Sherry

Today – the 9th of April – is Sherry’s birthday.

Had she been alive – Sherry would have been 10 years old today. 

Sadly – Sherry passed away to her heavenly abode around one and a half years ago on the 17th of December 2014.

I miss Sherry – she brought so much happiness and joy in my life – and she kept me physically fit.

Yes – when Sherry was alive – I never fell ill even for a single day – since – every morning and evening – I had to take her out for long walks and had to play with her – first – when she was a puppy and in her growing up years in Aundh Camp on the grounds on the banks of the Mula where we would chase birds – later – up the hills of Girinagar overlooking Khadakwasla lake – and – finally – all over Wakad – especially on the verdant spacious lawns on the Mula Riverside Park. 

Now – I have become lazy – and – this has affected my fitness – so – I must revitalize myself – and – start my super-long walks again – at least – as a remembrance to Sherry.

Sherry kept me emotionally fit too – especially in my lonely retirement days – and – even before that – when I lived all alone in a desolate “Bhoot Bangla” in hills of Girinagar – since – Sherry was always ready to “talk” to me – and she was always eager to listen to what I had to say.

I have two human children – but both of them love their mother (my wife) much more than they love me.

But – Sherry made her loyalties crystal clear – and to her – I was both mother and father.

Sherry was always by my side – trying to protect me – and many (including my wife) – have been at the receiving end of her displeasure – when they tried to approach me in a menacing manner – or if came too close for comfort. 

One thing is sure – my wife may be better at parenting human children – but I am unsurpassed at “pet parenting”. 

I am a short tempered person – and – whenever I scolded my human children – they would sulk for days – but – if I shouted at Sherry – she would immediately come to me in a loving manner to be cuddled. 

I could see – and – everyone could see – that Sherry truly loved me – and – I dearly loved her too.

As a remembrance – I am reposting a story about Sherry which I had posted  exactly two years ago – on April 9, 2014 – Sherry’s 8th birthday. 

(I wrote this on Sherry’s 8th Birthday – her last Birthday on Earth – she crossed the Rainbow Bridge on 17 December 2014)

Dear Sherry: You may not be physically with me – but you will always have the most special place in my heart.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SHERRY KARVE

(A loving accolade from Sherry’s human father Vikram Karve)

Sherry on guard outside her grandfather's home

(NB: This story was written in the year 2014 – on the 9^th of April 2014 – to be precise)

Today – the 9^th of April 2014 – is Sherry’s Birthday.

She is 8 years old.

Sherry was born on 09 April 2006.

And – since they say that one dog year is equal to eight human years – 8 dog years is 56 human years (8x7= 56).

So – Sherry is 56 human years old today.

Ever since she fortuitously – and most unexpectedly – came into my life – Sherry has occupied the prime place in my heart – and she has become my favourite child (my human children are envious about this) – and even my wife says that I love Sherry more than her (which may be true).

As I said – Sherry suddenly came into my life out of the blue – most unexpectedly.

Being in the Navy – I had no intention of keeping a pet dog.

If you are in the Army – it is easy to keep a pet dog.

The Army is a dog-friendly service and encourages officers to keep pet dogs.

They even provide a “sahayak” who can look after your dog – if you don’t have the time or energy.

Even bachelors can keep dogs – because pet dogs are allowed in army officers’ messes – and there is always the ubiquitous “sahayak”.

I have seen that when Army Officers go on leave – they leave their pet dog behind with the “sahayak”.

In contrast – in the Navy – it is difficult to keep a dog.

Firstly – you or your wife will have to look after your dog yourself – there is no “sahayak” in the Navy.

Secondly – in the Navy – married accommodation is scarce – and even when you get accommodation – you will get a flat in a multi-storey high-rise building – and this accommodation is not very convenient for keeping pet dogs.

Thirdly – Navy Bachelors cannot keep dogs – since dogs are not allowed onboard ships – in fact – pet dogs are not allowed in most shore based Officers’ Messes too, like the Command Messes at Mumbai and Vizag.

So – as a bachelor – I could not keep a pet dog.

Then – I got married to a nice girl and we had babies.

All our babies entered our lives unplanned.

We got our first baby a few days after our wedding.

Now please don’t let your imagination run wild.

Our first baby was a “canine daughter” – a cute little cuddly snow-white “ball-of-wool” Lhasa Apso puppy girl gifted to us during our honeymoon in the hills.

We promptly named her Sherry – meaning “Beloved”.

Everyone was aghast that we had got a pet dog immediately after our marriage – and – that too into our tiny one-room flat at Curzon Road Apartments in New Delhi.

Most of our friends and relatives did not recommend having a pet when we were just starting our new married life together – especially since it was an arranged marriage – and husband and wife needed time together to get to know each other better.

“Wouldn’t the pet dog ruin all the fun and romance you newlyweds are supposed to enjoy during the blossoming days of our marriage?” my mother-in-law asked.

“A pet dog is a big encumbrance,” my mother said, “You’ll be tied down to the house and won’t be able to go anywhere.”

All these fears were totally unfounded.

Far from being an encumbrance – Sherry filled our lives with fun, delightful joy and happiness – and she enlivened those early days of our marital relationship. 

My newlywed wife and I were like strangers – quite incompatible – with differing tastes and lifestyles – and it was Sherry who was the cementing bond of our marital relationship.

In fact the only thing my wife and I had in common was that we were both ardent dog lovers.

In due course – with nature taking its own course – we had our two human babies – a son and a daughter – but Sherry still remained the apple of our eyes till in the year 1987 – she passed away one sad evening – dying at my feet after her evening walk.

We were so distraught and heartbroken at the loss of our pet that we vowed to never have a pet dog again.

Towards the end of my naval career – I was lucky to be posted to an inter-service organization located in an army style “cantonment” near Pune – and was allotted “bungalow” type accommodation with plenty of space around – a spacious garden in front and lots of space behind too.

However – as I said – we had no intention of keeping a pet dog.

Sherry came into my life by sheer coincidence, or shall I say serendipity.

In April 2006, my much-married darling wife, at the spur of the moment, accompanied her sister to the bungalow of an acquaintance in Pune.

There she chanced upon a majestic Doberman mother who had given birth to a large litter of eleven pups just a few days ago. 

Most of the pups were healthy, handsome and smart and were already sold or booked by discerning dog lovers.

Suddenly my wife noticed a sickly, ugly, emaciated, weakling puppy lying distraught and hapless.

The small baby puppy was being pushed away by her strong aggressive siblings whenever she tried get close to her mother’s nipple, trying to feed herself.

“She is the last of the litter – the eleventh pup – the “runt of the litter” – and it looks like she will die as she can’t feed herself from her mother. Even if she lives – we will have to get rid of her – dispose her off – we will leave her somewhere to fend for herself – because no one will take her,” the owner said.

My wife was overcome by a flood of compassion.

She picked up the feeble baby puppy in her soft hands, and said: “I’ll take her.”

“Are you crazy? How can you just pick up a puppy dog and take her home?” my wife’s sister asked her, “Have you asked your husband?”

“I don’t have to ask my husband – I don’t need to,” my wife said with confidence.

Then – my wife brought the scrawny little creature straight home – and deposited her in my hands.

“Sherry!” I said holding the frail, terrified, shivering puppy dog – and my wife nodded in agreement.

I rushed to the market – and bought a feeding bottle.

Soon – Sherry was drinking warm milk cuddled up in my hands.

With the nourishment of love – Sherry blossomed – and soon became the “apple of our eye” – and – Sherry added a new zest and joy in our lives.

When our children grew up and flew away from the “nest” – and are busy with their careers and lives – it was our canine daughter Sherry who brightened up our lives and filled up our empty nest.

Oh, Yes – as my kids say – Sherry is my favourite child.

My wife was quite busy with her job – so I have become the “de-facto” mother and father to Sherry – since my office was nearby – and we had easy working hours.

Yes – I became both father and mother to Sherry.

In fact – I have invested more love, time and effort in “pet parenting” Sherry – than have I spent in parenting my own children – which was my wife’s province – as then – I was quite busy with my career.

I wanted to tell you all about my life with Sherry – about her naughty pranks and fun and frolic – and the trials and tribulations in our lives. 

I told Sherry about it.

But – Sherry insisted that she would like to tell the story herself.

So – I shall now let Sherry tell you her life story.

I am sure you will enjoy it. 

The title of her story is “RUNT OF THE LITTER” – and Sherry intends publishing her life story the moment she completes writing it.

RUNT OF THE LITTER

(Sherry’s Story – as told to her father VIKRAM KARVE)

PROLOGUE

Sherry with Me (Her Dad) - Girinagar 01 Jan 2009

This morning I did the unthinkable.

I was in deep sleep in my den when my father lovingly tried to tuck me up with a blanket since it was cold.

Out of reflex I snapped at him.

He did not say anything, he did not scold me, and he just behaved as if nothing had happened.

But I could sense that he was very upset for while you can hide your emotions from another human, you cannot hide them from a dog.

I felt very bad and so I tried my best to make up.

I gave him a shake hand, raised myself on my hind legs and begged for forgiveness.

And like always he melted and smiled and fondled me.

My father has been so good to me.

He is the only thing I have in the world.

And for him too, I am the only thing he has, out here in the forests of Girinagar, where both of live in this huge “bhoot bangla”.

He could have gone to Mumbai, he could have lived with his family in Pune, but he gave me priority over his career and his family life – he did all this just for me.

While we were on our evening walk in the hills of Girinagar, my father told me that he was going to write a book about our life.

I told him that I wanted to write the story myself.

He said yes – so here I am penning my story, our story, a love story – yes, this is a love story, a unique love story of a different kind, the story of agape unconditional pure love between a man and a dog.

RUNT OF THE LITTER

Sherry’s Story

CHAPTER 1

MY NAME IS SHERRY

Aundh Camp November 2006

My name is Sherry.

I am a naughty young girl and I live with my family in a lovely spacious bungalow surrounded by plenty of greenery.  

I wake up early in the morning, jump off my sofa, go to my father’s bed, rub my cold wet nose against his hand and give him a loving lick with my warm soft tongue. 

He grunts and growls and opens his sleepy eyes, and the moment he sees me his face lights up and he lovingly caresses me and says, “Good Morning, Sherry.”

The he gets up from bed and opens the main door to let me jump out into the garden.

First I do my ‘little job’ at my favourite place near the mango tree.

Then I generally dig with my paws in the soft morning mud and sniff around with my keen beautiful black nose to find out if there are any new morning smells, not forgetting to run and welcome the milkman the moment he comes on his cycle.  

When I return I find that my father is back in his bed and my mother is up and about.

She pats and cuddles me and goes about her business making tea in the kitchen while I loiter around the house. 

She surreptitiously sneaks to the bedroom and slyly hands over a tidbit to my half-sleeping father under the blanket when she thinks I am not looking.

I pretend not to notice, as I do not want to spoil their fun.

Earlier, when I was small and impatient, I used to snuffle out the tidbit from my father’s hand, but this spoilt his fun and he became grumpy.

Now that I am a mature young girl well experienced in the ways of the human world and I have realized that it is better to act dumb and let these humans think they are smarter than me.

So I go outside, sit down and put on a look of anticipation towards the gate and pretend not to notice my mother hiding and peeping through the corner of the window and giggling to herself. 

The moment the newspaperman comes on his cycle and shouts “paper, paper”, I rush to the gate and fetch the newspaper in my mouth, gripping it just right between my teeth.

I run back with the newspaper held firmly in my mouth and hold it up to my horizontal father.

Fetching the Newspaper - Sherry's Morning Duty

My father gets up, takes the paper from me and gives me the dog-biscuit he’s been hiding in his hand, and my mother, who has rushed behind me, watches me with loving pride in her eyes.

My brother and my sister, who till now were fast asleep in the other room, call out my name – “Sherry! Sherry!”

And as I dart between their beds wagging my tail, they both hug and cuddle me all over saying, “Good Morning, Sherry. Sherry is a good girl!”  

Everyone is cheerful and happy and my day has begun! 

I love my family, even though they are humans!

And I love my house, my surroundings, the place I stay, the life I live.

But – before I tell you all that – let me tell you where I came from.

CHAPTER 2

THE “X” FACTOR

Posing with my Dad (in our Aundh Camp Bungalow)

My ‘birth-mother’ is a ferocious Doberman who lives in a bungalow in Kothrud in Pune and my ‘dog-father’ is unknown, though they suspect it may be the Caravan (Mudhol)Hound who lurks in the neighbourhood.

For making my registration papers the vet wanted proof of my paternity.

And since nobody could say with certainty, the vet looked at the form, and in the column against Breed he wrote ‘Doberman X’. 

I was a sickly weakling, just a few days old, the only girl, last-born of the litter of 11 puppies, and the owners were wondering what to do with me.

Most of my handsome brothers had already been selected and taken away, and the owners wanted to keep the most beautiful and healthy of them all.

They had kept me all alone separated from my ferocious Doberman mother who was growling menacingly in a cage nearby.

No one wanted me and I could hear people whispering how ugly and weak I was and I wondered what fate lay in store for me.

It hurt me to feel unwanted.

Then I heard people talking about sending me away to a farmhouse, and some said it was best to get rid of me and “dispose” me off.

I felt terrified and shivered with fright as I wondered what was going to be my destiny.  

One evening a few people came over and a gentle woman with kindness in her eyes looked at me.

Then, suddenly, on the spur of the moment the lady lovingly picked me up, and the way she tenderly snuggled me I felt true love for the first time.

This was my new mother.

She took me securely and lovingly in her soft hands, got into a car and they all drove across Pune, past Aundh, crossed the river, till we reached a bungalow.

The kind woman was wondering what her husband’s reaction would be.

It was dark.

I was scared and I cuddled up snugly my mother’s arms to feel safer.  

Suddenly I found a tough-looking bearded man staring at me.

Shivering with fear I looked back at him in terror as he extended his hands towards me.

But the moment he held me in his large cozy hands, caressed me lovingly, and put his finger tenderly in my mouth, I felt protected, loved, safe and secure. 

This was my new father and he had already decided my name – Sherry – the same name of his earlier canine “daughter”.

(By the way “Sherry” means “beloved” – not the wine drink you are thinking about!). 

“She was destined to come here,” my mother said. 

“Yes,” my father said feeding me warm milk. 

They made a nice warm bed for me in a basket and put it below theirs.

And as I drifted into sleep, they both fondled me with their hands.

I felt so wonderful and happy for the first time in my life.

I had found my true home and my family.

I am feeling quite sleepy now.

So, I will end here now and have a nap.

But don’t worry, the moment I get up from my nap, I am going to tell more about me, my delightfully mischievous life, and the naughty things I do.

CHAPTER 3

FUN AND FROLIC – The “Bone-Game”

Sherry as a Baby in Aundh Camp - Bone Game

“Sherry… Sherry… Bone… Bone…”

My father is calling me for playing the “bone-game” but before that let me tell you about my home.

In front there is a huge garden, or rather an orchard, with all types of trees and bushes, and a lush green lawn on which I love to frolic, prance and roll upside down, and lots of flower beds which I love digging up to my mother’s horror.

I love digging up the mud – it’s so tasty – and there is plenty of it in the spacious kitchen garden behind the house where I create havoc digging up to my heart’s content, and the only thing I have spared are the tomatoes and some horrible tasting leaves called Alu because they itch.

I’m lucky – they don’t tie me up but leave me free to roam and play around as I please.

And there is so much to explore and investigate, in the nooks and corners of our verdant garden with plenty of trees, bushes and hedges.

There is so much to sniff, so much to dig, and so much to chase - squirrels, mongooses and birds to chase.

The cats have disappeared though; ever since the day I almost caught one.

When I was small, and my gums itched, and my milk teeth began to break through, I could not resist chewing up anything I could lay my teeth upon – like shoes, slippers, clothes, toothbrushes, furniture.

I especially loved my father’s favourite Kolhapuri kapshi chappals which were so soft and yummy.

So my father bought me a chewy bone which, it said on the wrapper, was guaranteed to save everything else.

I don’t know why, but I secretly buried the bone in a hole I dug below the Mango tree, and I used to dig it out when I thought no one was looking, chew it a bit, and bury it in some other secret place.

One day my inquisitive mother found out, and she dug up the bone when I was sleeping and hid the bone under the pomegranate tree.

When I didn’t find my bone, at first I was confused, maybe it was my neighbour Bruno, but then he was too old for chewy toy bones.

Then I tracked the bone down with my nose, and when I spied my mother giggling and grinning like a Cheshire cat, I knew who the culprit was, it was my mother who had mischievously hidden my bone.

This started the “bone-game”.

First they (the humans – my mother and father) would give me the bone, and after

I hid it they would rush out into the garden and dig it out.

Then they would hide the bone (after locking me in the house so I could not see) and if was my turn to find the bone, which I did using my nose and keen sense of smell.

I wondered how they found the bone so fast; till one day I caught them, both my mother and my father, spying crouching behind the hedge when they thought I wasn’t looking and the mystery was solved.

So now I first let them see where I am hiding the bone, and when they complacently and confidently go inside thinking they know everything, I dig out the bone and hide it some other place which they do not know and then watch the fun as they search in vain.

Then when they give up searching and go inside and my father asks me to get the bone, I run out and get it, for which I earn a tidbit.

The way these humans act sometimes, I really wonder who is more intelligent – they or I?

Apart from my mother and father, who I have told you about, there are some more humans who live in my house – my sister, my brother, sometimes my grandmother – and I’ll tell you all about them next time.

I hear my father’s voice again: “Sherry… Sherry… Bone… Bone…”

So there I go – I speed off to find the hidden bone.

Sherry on the Lawns of our Bungalow in Girinagar 

RUNT OF THE LITTER

(Sherry’s Story – as told to her father VIKRAM KARVE)

To be continued…

VIKRAM KARVE

Copyright © Vikram Karve 
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This is a collation of my various blog posts on Sherry written since 2006 and posted online a number of times on my various blogs since 2006 onwards at various urls like https://karve.wordpress.com/2006/12/31/my-name-is-sherry-karve-part-2-by-vikram-karve/  etc