Do you know what I hate most? The sound of wheels on bags….when I hear it, I feel my intestines descend to my knees, all four of them; I feel my hair stand, my tail drop…the sound of those wheels mean just one thing: Mamu going away!

There was a time when Mamu traveled with shopping lists. From Gameboy cartridges to chocolates to linen water…Not anymore. The only person she makes an exception for is me. Particularly because she says I am the only one who doesn’t ever give her a list. So every city, she travels to, she find a pet store. Now I don’t like the word ‘pet’ but there is no going away from the lack of human imagination. I would have called it a companion store but stating the obvious is a very human trait…Anyway a pet store for me is also the litmus test to understand how a country views its pets….from bonnets for silly cats to a squeakie in the shape of a postman’s shoe… From what Mamu tells me, it ranges from the twee to the scary!

I wish I could go with Mamu though. She tells me of walking in the Sussex downs in England… The freedom to be off the leash, run and chase…Instead we have parks where companions such as I are allowed no entry.

She tells me of hotels in France where I would be permitted to stay with her, and I think of our malls that categorically state ‘ No pets and outside eatables allowed’ When I see a photograph of a Labrador lounge in a bookshop that Mamu's friend owns in Warsaw, I stifle a sigh: if only…

It occurs to me every now and then that humans are incapable of knowing how to regard the animal world . On the one hand, they have the Panchatantra where monkeys and tortoises, elephants and tigers are the characters who teach them how to go about becoming a decent human being. On the other hand, they will flog horses, make bulls carry loads they can barely manage, starve domestic elephants, sew the mouths of snakes and throw a stone at a dog just to hear it yelp in pain…

This incapacity to differentiate goes to extremes. Mamu, an insatiable collector of trivia has newspaper cuttings in a file that has me tottering between absolute horror and irrepressible giggles:

A five year old tribal girl in Orissa married to a dog as part of a ritual that would make her immune to attacks from animals, real and mythical. The newspaper states ‘ though the bridegroom went through the rituals with an alarmed look…the bride herself was convinced’.

A woman wedded a snake in recent times. The snake she was convinced was her husband from a previous birth.

A donkey that was summoned to a magistrate’s court as a witness in Kancheepuram.

And a viper that was handed over to the police on charges of murder!

They may worship their cows, monkeys, elephants and snakes. Paint one’s horns and make offerings to the other but Indians are not a nation of animal lovers.
As Mamu’s brother, a doctor, often reminds me: we don’t even value human life so how do you expect us to value animals?

Which is why in retrospect, it occurs to me that it was best that I wasn’t there for my book launch. I would have had silly humans cooing over me with a pretend ‘so sweet’, ‘so well behaved’ and getting me all worked up at the very hypocrisy of it …

I am glad that I stayed home and worried my bone…

It’s been a while since I last voiced my voice… you see things have been rather hectic around here. It’s like this. I was writing a book. http://www.anitanair.net/novels/Goodnight_and_God_Bless/index.htm

The official version is Mamu wrote it. But the truth is, of course, something else... I mean a dog's gotta do what a dog's gotta do...whether it is acknowledged or not...Besides she has told me a million times that she couldn’t have done it without me.

What happened was Mamu got on first name basis with parts of her vertebra and we had to keep her in bed. Now the only way to keep her there was for me to lie on her feet. One of those days, I looked deep into her eyes and beamed, “Why don’t we do a book?”

She lay there sunk deep in melancholy. The woman should take a patent on melancholy. Her response was: “What can I write about? I need to get out and see people; talk to strangers, travel, seek my story out in the world etc." Rubbish.

I sighed. Then I rose and put my head on the pillow next to hers. Would I need to spell it out to her, I wondered?

Read my lips Mamu...Write about me. Write about Himself and Ette. Write about your house guest who had me locked in a room [I shudder when I think of that episode. Things really got out of hand. I mean if I were Paris Hilton or Britney Spears, the paparazzi would be paying me to ventilate about it…I would be on Oprah witha box of tissues! Or, one of those Hollywood agents would be signing me to do a mega movie with a book deal thrown in…]

The good thing about Mamu is she listens to me. So there we were. Very very busy with the book.

Well, the book is pretty much about me…because what else do I write about. But I guess when I wasn't watching her, she got carried away because it also seems to be about everything else. But that’s fine. I am not a primadogga. I don’t mind sharing my spot in the sun…even if it is with mice, the wind, airport hotels, books, writers etc...besides I am the only one who got on the cover...

But I am a little hurt. They had a book event to celebrate the book. And I wasn't there. I wasn't allowed to be there....will keep that for the next time...so watch this space as they say….