The year of the Doggo

 The Year of the Doggo

This year has been crazy.

First, it was Zenia, then June, and now Softy.

The animal lover in me is at an all-time high.

Zenia, our family pet, came into our lives, thanks to human errors.

Nevertheless, it was a pleasure.

June came to us; let us say it was divine providence. I say so because we found her hiding in a temple.

She came home, but it wasn't the best time as Zenia was going through a medical condition.

With a heavy heart, June was sent to an animal farm.

Three months later, Softy sauntered into our colony, and I became his human.

Full of life and zest, forever ready to explore and play, he is a kid who was probably abandoned for having a skin condition.

The lady who found him arranged for him to be lodged in the local gym.

Really nice of the caretaker, a young guy.

Though Softy got to run, he also had access to rubbish, which he swallowed with relish.

Only he knows how long he wandered the streets alone, surviving on stones, poop, and rubbish.

His new lodging was better than wandering the streets and being shooed away.

He was fed, walked, and made new friends with the other strays.

He even got a bath.

Oh, medicines and shots followed soon.

He continued to be the darling that he was.

Hoping to help him heal sooner, I brought him home.

He loves the couch, he is best buddies with my brother, and he likes to hang around our mother.

But he continues to shadow me wherever I go.

A growing child, he loves to explore and chew on things.

He yields to sit, go, and come.

Alas, he hasn't learnt to restrain himself when nature calls.

Waiting for his forever home, he would like somebody who understands his situation.

Before

After

After

So I call it the year of the Doggo.

I did not find them, they found me.

 

 

June, the Little Bugger

                                        

She gets on my nerves,

sniffing and jumping all over me.

She tries being friendly but I give her the cold shoulder, for I am the princess here.

Zenia is the name, I may not be a warrior princess, nevertheless, I am the Princess of my castle.

Zenia

Princess to Daddi, Daddy and Booe or, is it Booee, what is in the spelling?

While Daddi goes, zuzubee

Daddy goes Zenieee

Boo goes zenudi, babbudi, bachhudi, chuchudi and the list is long.

I was in heaven, showered by love, kisses, and lots of yummy food, then it happened.

Now I shall tell you the story of a little bugger named June.

In came the little bugger to ruin my bliss.

She pees anywhere she pleases,

Runs in and out of rooms.

Drinking out of my bowl, trying to eat my food.

Oh, she took my old chewy bone, toy and rope. 

That is how she gets on my nerves.

At, first she was scared and curled up into a ball.

They gave her water in my snack bowl

She was bathed with my shampoo and dried with my towel.

They gave her water in my snack bowl.

She took refuge in my favourite place to nap.

That is how she gets on my nerves.

Then began to wonder 'what to do with her?'

One wanted her to go while another wanted her to stay, the third sat on the fence.

Yet, they cared for her.

And the little bugger enjoyed all the attention.

Oh! She gets on my nerves.

Mind you, I was not ignored, but I liked playing the'neglected one' card.

Then when it was time for the ritual walk, she got my old leash.

She was happy to drag them along, while I like then to think that I tag along.

As a pupper, her curiosity drags her far, yet she turns around to if  I am coming along.

Ah, she gets on my nerves,

She is just about 6 months old.

An Indie for sure.

They think she is part of a litter from around here.

Somebody took her home and gave her a red leash.

Alas, forgot about her soon.

A mix of black and white.

I do not know whether she has got her shots or not.

But she sure is a little bugger herself.

All spritely and bouncy, she likes to sleep under the couch.

Watching outside the balcony is her favourite pass time.

Forever hungry she meditates outside the kitchen.

She sleeps in her rug surrounded by her toys.

She is a pupper I get it all, I would still say 'She gets on my nerves'.

P.S. Did I tell you they named her June, she was found on 22nd June 2020, hence the name.

She is up for adoption.

June perched on the window sill

Book Bhoot (My experiments with writing)

The story is the result of an activity at my workplace. Since the lock down can be a downer, the HR at my workplace is trying to help us keep up our spirits and I think they are doing a good job. 

So this week the challenge was to write a poem or a story based on a picture.

So I chose to write a story based on this picture.

Looking forward to your thoughts. Hope you enjoy the story.

Book Bhoot

 He liked being around books. They transported him to another world. A world full of creativity, ideas, innovations, ingenuity, action, wonder, conflict, myths, made up worlds and characters. He dreamt of living in a house full of books. His wish was partially fulfilled when he was appointed the Head Librarian. His dream of floating around in the aisles stacked with books, where the air had a whiff of books old and new had finally become a reality.

His day began with a glide amongst his beloved books. Every day it was a different aisle. If Monday was mythology, Tuesday would be Theology, Wednesday, maybe, World affairs, Thursday were Taxonomies, Fridays were dedicated to Fiction, Saturdays and Sundays were usually spent in the company of Sociology and Spanish and sometimes Scandinavian. Yes, he never missed a date with his friends, he worked weekends too. It filled him with euphoria.

He loved what he was doing and performed his job diligently. He was friendly, everybody loved him and did not mind him floating around. One thing that he hated was when a book was left lying on the floor or on the table instead of its rightful place on the shelf. Pencil or pen markings on the pages drove him crazy, doggie eared pages irked him to no end and the most blasphemous of things to do to a book was to rip the pages. Books missing with pages, according to him, were like children who need special care. He took great pleasure in penalising people that damaged book. Tommy had an accident in the ‘Murder Mysteries’ aisle one Friday afternoon. It was attributed to that Friday being the 13^th of November. He was a smooth operator.

He missed Jan, a smart kid, who had surprised him by borrowing a great variety of books. He enjoyed listening to Jan and the assistant librarian discuss those books. He loved listening in.  He wanted to join.

The last time he had tried joining a conversation, he remembered it clearly, like it was yesterday. Jan and the assistant librarian stood talking in the far corner of the ‘ancient civilisations’ aisles, hidden from the Professor, who stood on the step stool perched precariously, leaning dangerously against a shelf. He could not help watching the Jan, something bothered him. He began walking and suddenly broke into a run towards the boy. He managed to push the boy to safety. The old creaky bookshelf had tipped over as the Professor turned this way and that, not knowing what he was doing.

It was over in minutes. He went with a bang, surrounded by his beloved books in his favourite aisle, the paranormal section of the ancient civilisations.

The Library was really his home now, and he could hover above the shelves,  glide through the aisles, slip between the books anytime he wanted and spend hours listening to Jan, now, the assistant librarian and his successor, the Head Librarian.

 

                                                                               

 

 

The pain

I do not know how to reach out to you!

You built a wall around yourself to keep away the pain, sorrow,failure and all the naysayers.

I see you struggle, fight a million battles within.

The pain is evident, the fear is written across your face.

Yet, I don't hear you cry or call out for help.

Could it be that the wall as become your prison.

A prison with no windows or doors.

Your cries for help are stifled.

The banging on the door is muffled.

Tell me my friend, how can I help?

You faltered, you lied, you hurt those who loved you.

Harsh bitter words were hurled at you.

Now it is your pain to bear.

But my friend, only if you let me in, I am willing to share.

You hurt her most, the one who will care for you till her end.

Your words pricked her like a million arrows, your actions crushed her heart into million pieces.

Yet, she bears it all and still cares; hoping, one day your pain you will share.

Hope is all we have. You and us...together we are in it. For this too shall pass.