The Dog We Stole is the definitive biography of Her Majesty Begum Pathumma. Read earlier episodes of the series on the TDWS page.
As he trundled down the stairs stopping at each floor to double check if our wards were hiding in the shadows, panic quit pacing and sat down, politely hinting at refreshments. Echo is your puppy baby but do you realise that he is a big, brown dog to others? He couldn’t even manage to defend his spot on the couch from his tiny sister but strangers don’t know that! How would he survive in the world outside? You’ve not got a name tag on Pathu yet. How will she be found? Most importantly, where would they go? They don’t get along even under supervision!
As panic continued to peel my confidence and reveal my nerves, another scene was unfurling outside. When his meticulous search operation reached the ground floor, a sound came running up the stairs from the basement. He had never believed that all three of us knew he was home before he opened the door because we could identify the jingling of his key bunch when he locked the car in the street. But here it was, the unmistakable bell-like metallic ting of Echo’s name tag chiming against his collar.
Pathu hid, tiptoed and then ran across the parking lot like a single thread drizzle of caramel sauce.
When he got to the basement the siblings were playing hide and seek among the cars. The cars smiled sheepishly, scratched their heads and avoided eye contact. Pathu was the first one to spot him. She clearly didn’t understand the rules of engagement here. Neither did she understand any of our commands. She walked over wagging not just her wispy dyslexic ‘C’ of a tail, but the entire lower half of her body. She must have assumed he was there to play with them. Because when he bent down to get a hold of her, she proceeded to step back, theatrically bang her front legs on the floor, lowering her upper body in a dramatised downward dog and running in the opposite direction, hoping he would follow. In the joy of having found them safe, follow her he did. He weaved between the parked cars, as they egged him on. Pathu hid, tiptoed and then ran across the parking lot like a single thread drizzle of caramel sauce. He followed like a man who had unexpectedly found his kidnapped children without much effort.
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