When the whole world's sharing the color of their underwear, I know I should have been at least sharing my innermost thoughts. But this last year and a half has been a difficult time ...and to share my thoughts during this period would have made everyone question the very idea of my labrador-liness that everyone thinks I am endowed with by an extra measure and half...a disposition that is so equable that nothing could ruffle it...In fact, I surprised myself by who I have become.

It all began with Ikru....to this day, I can remember that first miaow resonating in my ear....and I feel a particular weakness gnaw at my soul.

Oh hell, Himself is here with a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye. I know the purport of that particular expression. Time for a bath! A girl can't even blog in peace

By the way, and because I want to be part of this color movement that every girl is these days, my colours today are red with white polka dots...never mind it's a organza bow and not a bra...a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do to help power girls, no matter what age, size, breed or species...

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….

I guess it is natural that you want to know about me. So who is this three year old dogipinion babe? Et al. Let me start with the boy. He actually thinks he is my brother. The guy is weird…delusional almost. He is my pet. How can he be my brother? I am supposed to call him Ette in that little girl voice of mine. That is the Malayalam word for older brother. Like Malayalam, Ette too is a palindrome. That means it is the same no matter which way you spell it – front to back or back to front. Strange that Malayalam should have so many palindromes : Malayalam, amma, ette, maram….. Is that why people from Kerala are so contrary? Look at it from their point of view…any which way you look at it, their world is right… Anyway I have a thousand other names for Ette. No-Good-Nonu is my current top pf the pops… Everyone thinks he is cute but seriously, I think they should look at my profile. I would look so much better than him on a coin and besides I have a tail… He often uses the appellation greedy when he refers to me. I really don’t mind that too much. I am a girl who lives for her appetites. But big brother take a look at yourself…Just as you often like to say to me ‘You not very intelli!’ Okay, I know I am being too hard on him. Mostly he is nice. I mean I can prevail upon him to share what’s on his plate, and he’s good to cuddle upto though he does take up most of my bed. But I hate it when he hugs Mamu though. She is mine…when will he get it? We don’t mind having him around the house. But he is a pet after all…. And I believe that pets have a place…

For so long now I have been endowed a voice. Himself gave it to me a few days after he brought me home.
You ought to hear that voice. It is a bratty five year old girl voice. The kind you see with fat cheeks, tubby legs and pigtails whooshing through the air…those obnoxious creatures women so like to gush over in breathless voices as they pinch those fat cheeks and murmur, ‘sssho cute’…the kind who grins up at you with huge gaps between her front teeth and says “pitzzah”....my soul and every strand of dog hair shudders.
So you see it’s time I voiced my voice. My decent three year old voice. I have other uses for my mouth you know. Yessir, I do. And, I don’t mean snapping at flies, treats or tearing newspapers into bits.. I am sure you agree with me that is the only way to treat most newspapers…deconstruct, figuratively speaking.
Himself and Mamu don’t approve but when have parents ever approved of what their kids want or do?
All that deconstruction has taught me one thing though…That I have a right to an opinion and not just to bark in B Minor. So here it is. I have an opinion…a dogipinion perhaps... nevertheless, it is mine. And just mine