Meet the sexy Rakhi!

Nov 22, 2008 19:53


“Is it a boy or a girl?” our Bai asked last week.

“Boy, of course, can’t you see.” my mom said a bit amused.

“Then why have they named him ‘Rakhi’?” she asked. "These young boys -- they all like Rakhi Sawant and her assets!' she added venomously.

When mom managed to finally control her laughter, she told her “The dog's name is Rocky, not Rakhi.”

I heard Bai practicing Raaakhi’s name yesterday…with dogged determination. (Notice the pun?)

One would assume that a dog named after Sly Stallone's famous hulky character would be a bull dog or an Alsatian or a Doberman. But one would be terribly wrong in making that assumption.
Rocky, the ‘boy’ in question is our neighbour’s sons' pet Pomerian, who turned one recently…

Mom, who loves him like the son she never had, refers to him respectfully as Vellaiyaar, or the Great White (haired) One, which is Rocky’s Red Indian name. This, again Bai cannot pronounce. So dad’s come up with an alternative name - Kakdi.

Kakdi (cucumber) is Rocky’s favourite vegetable. And saying ‘Kakdi’ is also the only way to catch Rocky’s immediate attention.

He is a bundle of arrogant fur, you see, and he’s got a mind of his own. On many an occasion, I’ve seen him challenge the two cats in our building to a duel on who can ignore humans better… And he’s always won paws down. (another pun, what joy!)

I think it all comes down to attitude in this dog eat dog world. (Do I even need to draw your attention to this one?)

The way this pooch holds his tail high up haughtily when he struts around in our house, which by the way, he considers his kingdom, says it all. He also tilts his head and looks away in the other direction when we go hoarse calling out his name aloud. He makes it a point to ignore whatever goodies we offer him, unless its kakdi. And then too, he condescends to eat it only if the kakdi is peeled, diced into pieces of just the right size, and fed to him by hand, and not offered on a plate...

He’s the first canine I know who likes cucumber. Carrots, peas, assorted raw green vegetables and grated coconut are next on his list of favourite treats. Then come Maggie, curd-rice, milk-rice and non-veg, which our neighbours feed him.

Dad pretends he doesn’t like dogs. He thinks it’s imperative, or else, I will revert to my old habit of bringing stray dogs home again. Jojo, Blackie, Brownie, Snowy, Kalu and Ricky, named so because he lost his leg after coming under a rickshaw, have all tried to make themselves comfortable in our house at some point of time. Three cats, a couple of pigeons, a baby crow who visited our house were also shown the door.

It used to rain cats and dogs in our house, quite literally, in those days. This was before the Prohibition of Access to Dogs Act 2004 was passed in the Iyer household. No dog has ventured in since.

But Rocky is the only four-legged creature who flouts this law. He’s gained my respect. And I guess Dad’s too.

‘Cos this is how Dad speaks to him in Marathi -- an alien tongue that he's furiously practicing his skill at, courtesy fear of retribution from the Maharashtra Navnirman Sena (MNS).

‘Rocky, ikde yaa’ (Please come here…yaa being a respectable way of addressing elders). Rocky just trots away.
'Rocky, bassa' (Won't you be seated, please?) upon which Rocky furiously chases his own tail.

‘Rocky, jhopa’ (Please sleep) upon which Rocky barks his head off like every other annoying Pom I know.

‘Rocky, jhevaa’ (Won’t you kindly eat something, please?) and the bugger after casting a disdainful glance in the direction of the plate, walks away with his tail held high.

“Patti (dog) eats and shits here, but obeys the damn neighbours!” says Dad, who thinks one should not only Not love thy neighbour but one should Not let one's neighbour's dog love the aforementioned neighbour either. Nevertheless, it's dad’s daily ritual to try to get Rocky to ‘shake hand’. To which Rocky gives a look that eloquently says: ‘What!! There’s no way I’ll shake hands with a lowly human being.’

You thought you can’t teach an old dog new tricks? What do you know! You can’t teach a young dog new tricks either, if the canine in question is Rocky.

Walking the dog is a chore that the neighbours have benevolently bestowed upon yours truly. I believe they are trying to secretly teach me the virtues of patience. For there are rules that need to be followed. Every tree trunk has to be circled and sniffed, every car tyre has to be wetted, every other dog or cat you meet en route has to be intimidated with fierce growls, the entire building compound is a jungle that this pint-sized lion has to mark as his own territory and no stone has to be left unturned in the search for gold or mud or moss or whatever lies under every stone…

Ever heard of the phrase, every dog has its day… if this is true, then I guess every day is Rocky’s day.

rocky, dogs

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