little dogs have no sense. only a lot of nonsense.

my friend the speckled fat guy/gal got into the empty plot opposite through a gap in the gate. and then discovered that he/she cannot come out. trapped. hearing his/her distressed yelps, one of his/her gallant brothers (or sisters. terrible confusion, but it is the kind of point that is referred to as a moot point, so..) leaped to the gate seperating him/her from the rest of the family. after a hurried conversation conducted in yelps and bites, he/she, with great presence of mind, wiggled in to the other side, to be greeted with an affectionate bite on the tail by the speckled sibling.

now comes the best part of the rescue drama. both the rescuer and the rescuee are trapped. the loud complaining yelps of indignation are ignored by the ma and the other biraders. 

the laughing hurts my head. if i try to supress it, my stomach hurts. 

kutta kamina

no one plays with the little black runt. 

when i go downstairs in the morning, and when i come back in the evening, all the others rush in to say hello - tails wagging with such vigorous friendliness, that their rear ends are in danger of getting detached from the rest of them. after a few friendly sniffs, some threatening leaps at the tassels on my shawl, and a yelp or two, they go off busily to pursue other important little-dog pursuits like crawling all over the mud-heaps around the holes in the street, getting under peoples' feet, yelping territorial falsetto yelps at cyclists and babies, viciously chasing plastic bags and other sundry very interesting passtimes.

n leave the runt behind.

i hate calling him the runt, so i shall call him kalia. not very inventive, but then he is absurdly kala-kaluta.

he stays well away from his rambunctious brothers and sisters and looks doggone and droopy eared. i see him from my bus window looking the picture of doggy dejection. a small black dot of misery, growing smaller and smaller.

cuteness attack

the neighbourhood stray gave birth to a litter of seven. there are two brown and white speckled ones, a brown one with a white-tipped tail, a white one, two brown ones and two black ones. the fairness complex seems to have gotten to the blackies. they always remain hidden behind the papapet, while their brothers and sisters explore the world on chubby, tottering steps.

when i go downstairs, i usually find them awake and harassing their reed-thin mother. as soon as they see me, they rush towards me. little dogs seem to suffer from the notion that the entire world is their oyster, people included.
the brown one approaches in a fat sideways gait, and sniffs at my toes. when they dont growl, snap, bark or bite back, he decides to get brave, and pounces on them. then he waits expectantly for retaliatory action. when nothing happens for a while, and when i detect what seems to me to be a cocky, show-offy gleam in his little black eyes, i wiggle my toes, and he jumps back like he's been shot, right into the middle of a huddle of the rest of his brothers and sisters, who had gathered behind the brave explorer to watch the show. then everyone runs on drunken little legs back to mom.

nyeh,nyeh,nyeh......i strike terror into canine hearts!