He was born, white as milk powder, the youngest of six children. He played with his brothers and sisters, running around in naughty circles, teething and playful. But soon, it was time for him and his siblings to go away.
Like every child he was on a mission; to be loved by a stranger and to rule their world. Being the cutest one, he brought in the highest bid. The two strangers he went home with were particularly interested in him, especially his ears. They cuddled him without reason and laughed a lot around him. When he furrowed his forehead, turned his face slightly and stared at them for their weird ways, they found it hilarious.
He particularly loved biriyani nights. He was allowed to eat as much as he wanted as long as he didn’t throw up. Every night he slept between them, hogging their blankets and all their space. And every morning after, he woke up happy and wild, waking them up with his boundless energy and uninhibited kisses.
They home-schooled him, teaching him discipline, logic and spatial skills. The bigger he got, the lesser they taught him. They let him grow into himself and be. In turn, he returned the favour by keeping track of them without being in their way. He made himself a spot on the couch, used the armrest to rest his chin and watched them like a hawk. He let them talk to each other, as long as they involved him in their conversation.
Years went by in road trips, friendships and surgeries. He had them right where he wanted. At his beck and call. All he had to do was was whine and one of them would check on him. Refuse to bathe and they would give him treats. If he brought his toys over, they would drop everything and play with him. If he went on a trail, they would follow. If he got stuck in a bush, they would come to his rescue. When he tired of walking, they would carry him home. His charms worked wonders on the other strangers too. If he wagged his tail, they couldn’t resist petting him.
He had done his people proud. He had won over the strangers. He was Maximus, the maker of minions.