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TDWS| E14: The Last Civil Liberty

The Dog We Stole is the definitive biography of Her Majesty Begum Pathumma. Read earlier episodes of the series on the TDWS page.

Pathumma warranted a biography because she is no regular dog. She is a royal canine! Not a misspelt plug for the dog food brand, I promise. It’s just a bad joke, a brain fart if you will. It had to be released. This is precisely why all writing must be edited before seeing the light of day. Go editors!

Anyway, we first noticed Pathu’s royal tendencies when she refused to sit on the floor. Every evening after dinner, we would head to our study that moonlights as the TV room. This makeshift arrangement afforded only two chairs. Since Echo was happy being belly up on the floor, we had never really thought of seating for our furry friends.

Pathu refused to sit. She would just pace around the room. At first we thought she was uncomfortable being in that small room. We would leave the door open for her to leave but she wouldn’t. However, when one of us got up to get ourselves a late night snack, she was quick to capture our seat.

That’s when we began noticing this royal tic. If our rears never left our seats, she would act cute till we let her get onto our laps. Of course there was the entitlement. If we sat together on the couch in the living room, she wouldn’t relent till she got to snuggle between us. Basically she had to be in the epicentre. Echo on the other hand has always been a sulker. If he doesn’t get what he wants, he goes away. He sits by himself in the corner, sighs, sulks and refuses to make eye contact till we go over to pacify him. Pathu will stand her ground and demand that she be given what she wants.

On principle, she does not beg for our food. She demands it. She does not raid the dustbin sneakily. She attacks it as if it were her birthright.

We are not the most disciplined people you will meet but Pathu most certainly is. She has her routine and nothing can change it. Ever. She wakes up at 7 am and proceeds to wake up the entire household. No one must sleep once she is awake. At 7:30 am if her breakfast is not served she will raise hell. Two hours later, it is time for her morning nap. For this divine event to commence, the rest of us have to get ready for the day and settle down so that the Begum can sleep. Because she won’t go to sleep if any of us is going about our business elsewhere in the house. We need to be at our stations. Of course, if you diverge from this path, she will first grumble and then yell till you fall back in line.

We have finally taught her to sit but when she does, her bum never truly touches the floor! Her blue blood manifests in other places too. She looks down on everything. When I exercise she stares at me, judgingly, “These squats aren’t going to help you”, she seems to say. If I am on the couch, she will snuggle up next to me. But if I as much as breathe out of sync, her death stare will pierce my soul. On principle, she does not beg for our food. She demands it. She does not raid the dustbin sneakily. She attacks it as if it were her birthright.

Similarly in the evening, her dinner time is sacrosanct. Post dinner I need to be available on the couch for her to cuddle. Around 10 pm, she begins to get cranky. She needs to retire for the night but she needs to make sure that our day ends too. This is our final frontier against her absolute dominance over our lives. And we are determined to hold on to this last civil liberty. We will win or die trying.

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Next Episode | E15: A Secret Wish Comes True

TDWS | E13: The Great Escape

The Dog We Stole is the definitive biography of Her Majesty Begum Pathumma. Read earlier episodes of the series on the TDWS page.

The house hunting season was not going well. House after house wriggled out of our grip proving that we were lousy hunters. One time, after we had begun making arrangements for the deposit, we were told that the house owner was uncomfortable renting to us because we had two dogs. One dog was okay but two was too much! In the small room in the back of my head that’s filled with comebacks I said to myself: one is a pup, so technically we have one-and-a-half dogs!

Do you know how difficult it is to find a house for rent that allows two dogs? House owners ask questions like what breed are these dogs? Will they destroy wooden fixtures? Will they be a nuisance? The room in the back has great answers for these questions. 1) Both my dogs are from a ‘good Nair family’ 2) They haven’t shown any traits of being woodpeckers in the past 3) How much of a nuisance are the other children in the building?

The hunt worsens when you add brokers to the mix. Their no-problem attitude is out of this world. Most of them assume that our dogs are invisible and that no one will see them if we don’t talk about them. And that is how we began taking Echo and Pathu with us on our house hunting expeditions.

The reason why Echo is not a good team member to take on a heist, is that he is a rule follower.

A typical house hunt unfolds like this. Where possible we would park right outside the building. If that’s not possible a parking spot near the scene would be found and the tailed ones would be left in the car. Of course we leave the windows cracked. We don’t want to kill them—just yet!

We would then head up to the house under question. Here again, Pathu didn’t appreciate being left behind. She would sing a song of deep sorrow in a pitch that could raise the dead. What irritated her more than not being able to go with us, was that Echo didn’t seem to care either way. He would sit straight on the seat, watch life go by outside with not a care in the world.

One such house hunting mission took us deep inside a residential area where the roads were lined with trees and the streets were quiet. And there were houses everywhere. Since we had been to a couple of these before, Pathu knew the drill. She would sit with me until we parked, he would hold her while I got out of the car. Then I would distract her so he could get out of the car.

Only today, she was prepared. As I opened the door, safe in the knowledge that he was holding her, she shook him off and through a sliver of open door, jumped out and ran away. As I stood still, stumped, he got out of the car on the driver’s side and ran in pursuit. We were parked towards the end of a street where it joins a larger street with heavier traffic. Pathu was beelining towards oncoming traffic!

What we didn’t notice in the commotion was that as he got out the car and shut the door, Echo had held out his paw to soften the impact. The car door on the driver’s side had not closed. One of Echo’s only concerns in life is playing. He just couldn’t bear the sight unfolding before him. The human was chasing after Pathu without including him in the game. “For all the grief she gave me about sticking to the plan. And not playing with the human. And doing this for the freedom of our species. Look who’s playing with the human now!” he whined.

As I stood on the passenger side of the car, deciding whether to stay by the car or chase Pathu, I saw a big brown form slip through the door on the opposite side. A split second later, ahead of me I saw Echo in full sprint towards the game that was proceeding without him. Now I was running after Echo. Anyone would refuse us a house if they saw this scene, I thought.

The reason why Echo is not a good team member to take on a heist, is that he is a rule follower. I simply jogged up to him and said Echo, sit. Stay. And that giant fellow, plonked his brown ass on the ground. Pathu was seething as she saw what was happening. Her plan was to cross the road on to the railway line and catch a train out of here. For a second her mind lost focus of the mission at hand. And in that moment, the human was there, hovering over her, picking her up. Another escape bid had failed. That too because of this squirrel-tailed monkey.

Next Episode | E14: The Last Civil Liberty

TDWS | E12: Humans Say, No Means Yes

The Dog We Stole is the definitive biography of Her Majesty Begum Pathumma. Read earlier episodes of the series on the TDWS page.

On second thought, before I let the human continue, a quick note on my love for insects. It’s true. I am partial towards insects. If the choice were between eating mud out of pots in the garden and chasing insects, I would choose insects every day of the week!

The thing with insects is that they always have a story. Sure, the mud tastes nice and I get to leave my pawprints on the carpet and the couch. If I am lucky enough to have the humans chase me yelling, “Noooo Paaathuuu”, then I even leave some cool paw designs on their bedsheet!

But the perks of chasing an insect are under researched in my opinion. Since most of them can fly, chasing them is incredibly eventful. I get to jump on the sofa, sniff the kitchen counter, peer down the bathroom drain and hike through the wire jungle under the TV. They disappear from their spot on the wall only to reappear on the handle of a chair. True magicians, they are.

Insects are gypsies who have been everywhere. They have incredible stories to tell. Some have just returned from a flower, some live in the tree outside, some live under a loose tile in the bathroom, others appear when it rains outside and still others live in the bottle prisons that hold provisions.

Just the other day, I was in the kitchen minding my own business when a moth, a yellow one with shiny brown dots came by my nose. Careful not to startle him, I slowly lifted my bum off the floor to a standing position. There I was, standing in a downward dog pose, with my nose to the ground. The humans began laughing instantly but I ignored them as it was paramount that the moth didn’t think I was moving. Also the humans laugh at anything. Including when I yawn harmonically. I’ll never know why they find things funny.

Anyway, back to the moth. The moth flitted around, landing on a cabinet handle, now on a washcloth, without a care in the world. I followed him with my nose, wagging my tail furiously to indicate my interest in playing with him. Then I lunged at him and missed. He was a sly one. He smiled back at me as he flew up onto the counter. I am not allowed to look on the counter. I don’t know why. The second my paws touch the kitchen counter, one of the humans will begin chanting, like clockwork, “down Pathu, Pathu down.” But I was not one to give up. I channeled the ninja warrior within me and stood up on my hind legs like a circus dog and eyed the moth. Technically, I was not touching the counter, you see.

He was a pompous moth who liked the attention and wanted to show off his flying skills. He was soon airborne again, only to lower himself onto the dustbin this time. I didn’t miss a heartbeat leaping at the dustbin. The next thing I know, the dustbin is rolling on the floor, its contents spread across the floor, jeering at me.

Without warning, the humans get angry. “No Pathu!” One of them yelled across the kitchen as if that would straighten the dustbin. I was sent out of the room immediately. As I settled down right outside, counting all the kitchen wonders I was missing out on, I noticed a yellow movement through the corner of my eye. He had flown out of the kitchen with me! I didn’t care about the kitchen anymore.

If the hours I’ve wasted watching TV with the humans has taught me anything, it is that people say ‘no’ when they actually mean ‘yes’.

He smelt like whiskey. Like old barrels with a hint of wet wood. He told me that he lived in the tree outside my balcony. He flew around me, showing off his colourful wings in slow motion. Politely, in the universally accepted language of the paw, I asked him if he wanted to play. He turned up his antennae and ignored me.

I wasn’t asking for much, was I? All I wanted was to be friends with him. If the hours I’ve wasted watching TV with the humans has taught me anything, it is that people say ‘no’ when they actually mean ‘yes’. So I taunted him by hitting him lightly. I missed him the first time but the second time I hit him, he fell to the floor. Now he was ready to play with me. We were playing a game of tag, where he would try to run away from me and I would catch him. I loved this game. But he wasn’t very good at this. I guess the humans were wrong. ‘No’ does mean ‘no’. Always.

Before long, I was bored. So I ate him.

Next Episode | E13: The Great Escape

TDWS | E11: This Is An Intervention

The Dog We Stole is the definitive biography of Her Majesty Begum Pathumma. Read earlier episodes of the series on the TDWS page.

Hello world! Begum Pathumma here. And this is an intervention. I feel that I have not been represented well enough by this narrator. She has portrayed me as a cute little puppy with gravity defying ears and cute mannerisms. Be that as it may, I am primarily a fierce warrior who knows how to get her way in this human world. I don’t understand what is with humans and infantilising female individuals. The good fight cannot be won unless all female kind unite. And when I try to tell her this, she thinks I am behaving like a grumpy old woman and tries to videotape me!

First things first, she has no right to be writing my biography. She has no right to be a self-appointed representative of my truth. And she certainly should not be calling me ‘beaglesque’. It is 2020 and this kind of name calling is insensitive and in bad taste. How dare she!

Human, here’s what I want you to say about me. Start with, “there is something else you need to know about Pathu. She is not The Begum for nothing. She never sits on the floor. Ever. She stands or paces, if a suitable seat is not available. If the situation is not rectified to her liking and on time, Pathu will proceed to make her displeasure known and demand action. She never slouches. She sits up straight on her throne with her head held high.

We have no doubt that she is the queen bee of this hive.

The night we got her, we made a makeshift bed for her. With enviable confidence, she fought Echo valiantly and conquered his bed. Echo is over thrice Pathu’s size. Her other victories include the Battle of the Carpet which ended in the killing of the psycho duck toy that squeaked. In record time, she has also single handedly cornered the lap market, establishing her monarchy. No other living being, dog, child or person, is allowed on any of the laps in the house at any time. By now, you know about her stellar EQ. Her IQ is so high that she has the entire neighbourhood mapped without ever having stepped out. She has managed this by analysing 8 data points on Echo’s body, post his daily walks. We have no doubt that she is the queen bee of this hive.”

Manipulating this human is child’s play compared to the bloody battles I’ve fought and won. I will now let her go on with the little plot she has planned out for you.

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Next Episode | E12: Humans Say, No Means Yes

A Must-Read Book For Men

*Dear Ijeawele: A feminist manifesto in fifteen suggestions by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie*

Now that I am gainfully unemployed, I have taken on a pet project. Other than The Dog We Stole, of course. That one is a serious academic endeavour. I’ve been meaning to do this project for a while now and I am thrilled that I am actually getting it done. It is to read through a wishlist of feminist writings.

This post is about Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s Dear Ijeawele: A Feminist Manifesto In Fifteen Suggestions (buy this book). I’ve been meaning to read this for years now, ever since a friend talked about gifting it to all her pregnant friends.

If you read one book in 2020, let it be this. When I say book, this one is really an essay. You can get through it in under an hour. It was first written in 2016 as a letter by the author and posted on Facebook. The book in today’s form is an edited and longer version of that post.

What I loved the most about it is how Adichie simplifies complex concepts like women and identity or women and labour into really simple sentences. She says, “‘Because you are a girl’ is never a reason for anything. Ever.” The simplicity of this conversational style of writing is for me, the beauty of this book. And what really works for this narrative style is that it uses no jargon.

I love books that make me see something I have not considered before. Something that has always been there but that the author points out for me to see and now it becomes part of my worldview. Adichie does that a couple of times in Dear Ijeawele. She talks about how girls are brought up to think of marriage as an aspirational ideal. But boys are not. And these girls grow up to marry these boys. And their relationship in this marriage begins from an uneven footing where one person values the institution more than the other and therein comes the idea of sacrifice. This was one of my ‘aha’ moments.

Another was when she talked about giving your child the language to talk to you in. If you want them to talk to you about sex, romance or even hygiene, says Adichie, it is important to give them the words to use. How do you say ‘my vagina is itching’ in your language? Does the child have the vocabulary to communicate that to you? She gives equal weightage to questioning this language as well. She calls language “the repository of our prejudices, beliefs, assumptions”. When you call a child a ‘princess’, be aware of the connotations of the term you are using. Adichie’s suggestions are all extremely practical. “Teach the child that the woman is a mechanic and not a lady mechanic.” She talks about creating alternatives for children. Meaning instead of telling them about this evil called patriarchy, point it out to them when someone is smashing it. Just like in writing, show rather than tell.

The one that I have recently been considering, in the context of blogging more regularly, is the idea of likeability. Adichie calls for rejecting the idea of likeability. But it is hardwired into my system. However, in a small win, I cut off a toxic person from my life recently. It took me a lot of hemming and hawing but I did it finally. It felt like I was being released from prison. I could move, think, breathe freely. I could stop tiptoeing. I felt as much relief as I felt exhilaration. My mind threw out reams and reams of mental notes I had made to cope with this person and these fell from my head to the floor in slow motion and I exhaled in sync. I felt light.

Similarly, when Adichie talks about shame and sexuality, it hits me hard. “In every culture in the world, female sexuality is about shame.” This is a big one for me. The idea of shame is so strong within me.

Again, as an adult I have taken steps to own my body and shake off this idea of shame. When we went to Korea in 2016, I spent a day at a jimjilbang, a public bathhouse, which is essentially a naked spa. I did not think I could do it. I was overweight, chocolate brown and walked in with shame hiding in my armpits, between my thighs and in the folds of my underbelly. Being naked in a foreign country, buying an iced Sikhye (a sweet, diluted rice kanji of sorts) gave me a sense of normalcy about my cracks, creases and crevices that I have never felt in my entire life. By the end of that experience, I imagined I was walking taller.

Adichie warns the reader never to link the idea of sexuality and shame or nakedness and shame. And it instantly made me think of that inane line we taunt naked children with even today, “Shame shame puppy shame”.

If I had to choose, the most urgent of her suggestions, for all humans in this political climate, is to appreciate difference. It is the only tool we have to survive in a diverse world.

In parting, I would say that this is the book all men must read to understand some of the unspoken ways in which women have inherited an unequal world.

Two Weeks Of The Dog We Stole

I am writing this post to consolidate The Dog We Stole series so far. But it is also about remembering what’s been lost, relishing what we’ve got and appreciating myself for staying the course.

I started this blog in 2011 but I’ve never ever written as consistently on it as I have in the last two weeks. Of course, I have come a long way as a person since 2011. I have also grown in confidence as a writer, gradually easing into the idea of sharing my writing for others to read. In this time I’ve had many jobs, travelled, published my stories, lost loved ones, gotten married and lived with three dogs.

Writing about Pathu, my youngest pup, was a momentary decision, a joke even. But I am so glad I did it. I find that I am savouring every moment with her and Echo much more now that I am writing about it. Possibly because I am subconsciously looking for details I can include in the series but nonetheless. But living in the moment with them makes me very aware of the loss of Maxu, my first pup.

Max was a senior dog we adopted when he was 11.5 years old. He lived with us for three years. He was a grumpy old man with patriarchal values. He loved to see me in the kitchen. He would get snarky if his meals weren’tt ready on time. And on principle, he did not cuddle. But he was my love-at-first-sight. More on him later.

For now, here is a compilation of The Dog We Stole series so far. And thank you for for you support.

The Dog We Stole

The definitive biography of Her Majesty Begum Pathumma

E1 | A Sunday in June: Our daily tea time ritual leads to the discovery of a caramel pup.
E2 | A Possessed Teenager: Chaotic and feisty, she is like a possessed teenager.
E3 | All Okay: How hard did we try to find Pathu’s family?
E4 | A Goat Dog: The logic behind naming her Pathumma.
E5 | Pathu Has A Brother: A cliffhanger introducing Pathu’s big brown brother.
E6 | The Search Mission: A search mission is afoot to find Echo and Pathu.
E7 | Who’s A Good Boy?: Pathu finds out that Echo is not a feminist ally.
E8 | Where Houses Are Hunted: It’s house hunting season, Echo and Pathu are home alone for the first time.
E9 | Pathu’s Pee Protest: Will Pathu’s protest have the desired effect?
E10 | Fruits Of Her Labour: Pathu’s pee protest is a success but will she get to enjoy the fruits of her labour?

To follow this series

TDWS| E10: Fruits Of Her Labour

Enjoying the fruits of her labour

The Dog We Stole is the definitive biography of Her Majesty Begum Pathumma. Read earlier episodes of the series on the TDWS page.

We were on our way back when the watchman called. The RWA secretary had asked him if we had stepped out. We knew that meant trouble. We hurried back, each step quicker than the one before. Truth be told, we did want Pathu to bark her head off. Nothing would be sweeter revenge than letting these assholes climb the walls in tune to Pathu’s riveting caterwauling. But you understand that we moved in polite circles where difference of opinion was buried deep and manifested only as acne which was totally treatable. Well, there might have been a spell or two cast while they looked away. For the uninitiated, ‘difference of opinion’ or ‘agree to disagree’ are ciphers for absolute abhorrence.

Logically still, we were moving out anyway and we had had enough with that RWA. But as pet parents we worried about Pathu. As we sprinted home, we waved at panic who was crossing the street to meet us. Why was Pathu barking incessantly? What was Echo doing? Did she hurt herself or get stuck somewhere in the house? You see, the vivid imagination is an occupational hazard.

This sudden expenditure of energy is called a zoomie in the dog world.

We opened the door, out of breath from the running. The second the door opened, barking put a finger on her lips. As if she were waiting for an audience, Pathu began her zoomie workout. She ran laps around the room, legs askew, ears akimbo. These parkour laps followed the walls of the room, bouncing off the couch. Her nails made a sound very similar to furious typing of the laptop’s keypad, much like a writer on Day 1 of writing. This sudden expenditure of energy is called a zoomie in the dog world.

Pathu’s plan for us was perfection. Gleeful to see our puppers in one piece and blinded by our puppy love, we stepped into a giant puddle of pee, running after Pathu who was running after Echo who had lost the plot. Pathu of course, did not relent. Meanwhile, pee was spreading across the living room like Covid and we were the transmitters. Since I had to pee, I wore my shoes to the bathroom and back. The carpet and couch were already a red zone. He went to pacify his computer that jabbered on weeping black and white JSON tears. What followed was a lot of swearing and generous capfuls of Dettol. Her Majesty Begum Pathumma rested on the couch, leaning all her weight on her older brother, looking regal and pleased as she watched the fruits of her labour.

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Next Episode | E11: This Is An Intervention

TDWS | E9: Pathu’s Pee Protest

The Dog We Stole is the definitive biography of Her Majesty Begum Pathumma. Read earlier episodes of the series on the TDWS page.

“I am mad at being left alone at home with this useless big fellow. Not only are they denying me the right to go outside because I am still getting my vaccines, I am being told off for peeing where I want. Apparently, one does not pee in the house. One has to pee on a newspaper in the balcony or hold it in all day like that furry shithead. When they heard that he had peed on the staircase, they had applauded his audacity. But when I do the same thing?” The monologue in Pathu’s head was riling her up.

Without much ado, Pathu peed right by the main door. The strategic position of the pee ensured that upon our return we would definitely step in it. She then proceeded to daintily dip all her paws ever so slightly in it and walk around the house. She knew exactly why this would trouble me. I would worry that we didn’t know for sure where all her pee-dipped paws had travelled and proceed to clean the entire house. But first she walked right up to Echo who had gone back to sleep with not a care in the world. Casually, she walked a circle around him. It had the desired effect. Like a spring-loaded male Labrador, he sprung up as if a grave injustice had occurred and leapt across the living room to Pathu’s tiny pee puddle. Lifting his leg with the grace of an entitled man, he let out his virulent stream with pride.

…she knew how to use subversion as a tool of resistance.

Pathu’s calculations were on point. She had assumed, rightly so, that her pee protest and Echo’s involvement would have given us enough time to walk away from the building after having waited around for her separation anxiety to manifest. Little did we know the drama that was going on upstairs. We were 87 steps away from home when she took a deep breath and began her wail in a sharp glass-shattering falsetto. As a politically aware dog in this oppressed society where women were expected to sing in a falsetto, she knew how to use subversion as a tool of resistance.

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Next Episode | E10: Fruits Of Her Labour

TDWS | E8: Where Houses Are Hunted

The Dog We Stole is the definitive biography of Her Majesty Begum Pathumma. Read earlier episodes of the series on the TDWS page.

But Pathu’s joy was short-lived. While all of us feasted on an entire slab of ice cream later in the evening, to Pathu’s utter dismay, we were informed that Echo had also done us proud. He had peed against the staircase on the ground floor. A pulsating waterfall of pee had fallen head-first onto step number one of the staircase. On impact some of it had transformed into a rainbow-inducing vapour of ammonia and sprayed onto the doormat that lived outside apartment 103. The remaining urine had formed a river of peaceful protesters and proceeded to walk down the stairs to the basement in single file. Within the hour, the lobby to our building smelt like a public toilet. Echo had managed a more public and visible token of dissent. The excuse of ‘she’s a pup’ that we had used for the earlier incident, did not stand for this large adult male dog. The association decided to take his anarchist act rather seriously.

Miffed as she was about not being taken seriously, Pathu was not one to back down. She waited for an opportunity to take revenge on her humans.

To Pathu’s mind, their protests were against the RWA for having added a byelaw that required us and other dog owners to pay an unofficial ‘pet fee’ in addition to the monthly maintenance. As young professionals who live happily in a bubble, we valued our peace of mind more than money. We were willing to pay a fee if it meant we could avoid confrontation. But once we paid up, our landlord decided to sell the flat and informed us that we would have to move out. We had never left Echo or Pathu alone at home but now it seemed unavoidable. Thus began a season of house hunting.

On the first house hunt, our target was merely 200 metres away. We shut the door behind us, waited outside the door nervously and then took the lift to the ground floor. From her hyperactivity when she saw us get ready to step out, we assumed that Pathu would bark and make a scene. We walked to the gate sending our ears up to look for a sign of distress. But not a peep was heard.

He stared at us as if we were crazy to doubt our angelic catholic-school attending dogs.

We informed the watchman that we would not take more than half an hour and to call us if the dogs barked. He stared at us as if we were crazy to doubt our angelic catholic-school attending dogs. Them? Bark? Never! His expression told us off. Just to be sure, we waited outside the building for another five minutes. Eventually, proud that our parenting had worked wonders on our wards, we shuffled our feet away from home.

Next Episode | E9: Pathu’s Pee Protest

TDWS | E7: Who’s A Good Boy?

The Dog We Stole is the definitive biography of Her Majesty Begum Pathumma. Read earlier episodes of the series on the TDWS page.

Echo watched for a very short time, the human playing with Pathu. ‘I love being chased. Why should she have all the fun? I am bigger and more fun than her. And I came first. So I have more claims on the human. I should join this game’, thought Echo emphatically. Even as she zigzagged between the morose pillars holding up the basement, Pathu knew what Echo was thinking. Before Pathu could say, ‘You idiot! He is here to take us back’, Echo was running towards the human.

But that big loser! I don’t know why I thought he was a feminist ally who stood for freedom.

With Echo in the mix, their capture was imminent. Pathu knew this because Echo was conditioned by society to follow human commands. Where she ignored their lousy calls to ‘sit’, ‘stay’ and ‘no’, Echo was the obedient sort—a good boy! When asked to obey, Pathu simply stared back at us with her large marble eyes and acted like she didn’t understand this language we were speaking in—kannada gothilla. And continued to do whatever it was that they had not approved of. ‘But that big loser! I don’t know why I thought he was a feminist ally who stood for freedom. Why did I have to include him in my plan? He just wants to please the man. I could have been free’, Pathu grumbled in anger.

When they were brought back to the apartment, both of them looked defeated but he was grinning ear to ear. The Begum had done us proud. During her little escapade, she had left a pile of shit outside the door right below us. There lived one of those vile creatures who hate dogs. Other than being nasty, he was also the secretary of the Resident Welfare Association aka RWA, making our lives difficult with his anti-dog rules on the daily. The rules were not really enforceable but it made for many staircase confrontations and strenuous conversations. Though we cleaned up after her, we grinned all evening, praising our puppy’s emotional intelligence and sense of justice. Pathu was definitely a keeper. Who wouldn’t want a posh pup who stands up against patriarchy and its arbitrary rules with all ten kilos of her might?

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Next Episode | E8: Where Houses Are Hunted