The original first born
It would be a Kunti-style
injustice of epic (read: of Mahabharata proportions!) to deny that Buchu was
our first born. We believe that he was destined to be a part of our lives – and
it is only right that he deserves ample mention.
A month into our
marriage, Worse Half and I were in Pune visiting his parents and paying respects to
varying family deities. Suddenly, Worse Half said, (divine intervention, anybody?) “I
want a dog. I have always wanted one. I have never had one...and… since we are
in Pune, I am going to get one,” he concluded with the
famous-stubborn-and-smouldering-to-be-later-observed-in-Aarinie. (Let’s just
say the look is like a family heirloom!)
Worse Half’s mother,
who has always been petrified of dogs, protested vehemently and raised all the
practical problems – who would take care of the dog, we were working, we
travelled a lot etc. All perfectly logical. And all perfectly valid. I agreed.
Worse Half resorted to
his refer-to-Puss-in-Boots-expression-in-Shrek 2 look and delivered the
ultimate dialogue, “My mother has always denied me the joy of a dog. And now my
wife…,” his voice trailed away. I sensed a quiver and suspected a tear. Maybe
two. After all, we were a month into our marraige. I hadn't even started calling him Worse Half - at that point in time, I thought of him more like Dreamy Half (snickering to myself now!)
So much for
being newly married and completely susceptible to emotional blackmail.
I succumbed. I
guess it doesn’t hurt to look at what’s available, I said, weakly.
In an hour, we
were at a dog breeder’s farm in Pune, looking at a litter of adorable and tiny
Boxer puppies. I was still not convinced, the practical aspects running through
my head. But there is no accounting for destiny. We were completely thrown when
the breeder said that the litter arrived on 24th January. That was
the day that Worse Half and I had started dating each other, all those years ago!
“Of course, we have to get the puppy now,” he said,
beaming at me.
And that was
that. Practical aspects were thrown out of the window, we called up my
unsuspecting parents, informing them that we were buying them a small puppy for
company who would stay with them during the week, and chose the largest male
puppy, (we thought after three daughters, my father could do with some male
bonding!) who was busy smacking the other brothers and sisters in the litter
and had handsome white markings on his paws and chest.
Little did we
know that the small puppy would transform into a Very Large Dog in precisely six
months…and that more than being our son, he would be my parents’ most loved grand-child.
Some people
uncharitably mentioned that we had given our parents a grand-child in super
sonic time, while my uncle snickered that Worse Half had given my parents a raw deal
– taking away a daughter and replacing me with a dog!
My mother, ever
creative and resourceful did away with the typical “Tommy, Brownie, Bruno”-type
unimaginative doggie name and pronounced that he would be christened,
Buchu…which in Bengali means, very aptly “flat-nosed”
We discovered
later that Buchu’s birth name as per his records was “Cracker”. And Sprout's
Bengali pet-name is “Phuljhuri,” which means sparkler. And together, needless
to say, they are dynamite...
Karmic connections, anybody?
A few adorable traits about our first born
- It's true: He snores. Loudly! Between Worse Half and him, it's a symphony!
- It's true: He does have Flatulence-related issues. Between him and...oh alright, I am not giving away more Family Secrets! :)
- He does not like Dog Food. He looks away in disdain at Purina, Pedigree and Royal Canine.
- His early morning toast has to be lightly toasted just so, with a generoud helping of butter. No butter, no eat!
- He does not like Marie biscuit - but open that special box of Belgian biscuits and he is there by your side, blowing bubbles...
...so there you go...that's our Buchu...
