You know how some seriously cute stuff happens when you least expect it?

My sister takes me to visit a friend of hers and to my utter child-like glee, I find out that she has a teenage Labrador puppy, Iris. Although she is only about three and a half months old, I still refer to her as teenage because she still clearly has the mind of a child and doesn’t quite realize that her body has grown way faster than her head has (I can already see teenage brickbats being hurtled my way). Anyhoo, Iris doesn’t really care that when she licks my feet now, I worry more about my toes ending up detached from my feet, than responding to the unending tickling it is causing. After much pampering and puppy-talk, I am then led to an inner room, having been told that I am going to be introduced to ‘Archimedes’. While my extremely fertile imagination runs amok, I find my sister holding a guinea pig! It was a brown ball of fur and looked utterly confused with all the attention (and I refuse to accept any counter-arguments that state that guinea pigs are incapable of evincing emotion).

Formal introductions took place in the form of, “Gini, meet guinea”, and no, it is not as funny as it sounds 😐 Once I took Archimedes into my arms, I distinctly refused to let anyone else even touch it, assured that my namesake was the happiest continuing it’s perennial nibbling while it was with me. Iris had other plans though. As soon as I made myself couch-comfy, she came bounding up to me and climbed on my lap, salivating and trying her best to swipe Archimedes into her mouth. Petrified, thinking that if Iris doesn’t get Archimedes she may try her luck with my nose, much squealing occurred while I held Archimedes in the air like it was a Wimbledon trophy, Iris barked and whined and basically walked all over me and the other humans in the room reveled in the entertainment.

All chaos and potential injury notwithstanding, I adore dogs.

Last May, my erstwhile roommates picked up a wounded puppy they found on a roadside and brought him home to nurse him back to health. Christening him was a matter of much discussion and after the throwing about of some extremely sensible names, he was very innovatively named Puppy Singh; further shortened to Puppae (sigh…). He was the stupidest, greediest, love-hungry, attention-seeking twit I had ever come across. I suppose the reason we all were nuts about him was because he was so needy all the time. It seemed to validate our existence for those few days.

Since we would eat on the ground, we would lock him out of the room, for we once found ourselves sharing a bowl of dal with him. Those ten minutes outside the room would give rise to howls that would lead you to think he was dying and we would scarf our food down. When he would be let in, he would give us the most wounded look and we’d all spend hours after that, individually making up for the audacity of wanting to eat our dinner in peace, to him. He was quite the Casanova too. Girlie parts, if you know what I mean, were of great intrigue to him. I had this roommate who had waist-length hair and Puppae loved nothing more than sleeping on her draped-out hair while she slept on the floor. This one time, we were all sitting on the floor and he was about the house playing Sherlock, when ‘Bachna Ae Haseeno’ begun playing on the speakers and this lil thing comes jumping inside with great enthusiasm… it was hilarious, the timing of it all. Of course, it isn’t quite that funny if you weren’t one of the roommates. Or Puppae. He always found the most inaccessible, unpleasant areas to relieve himself on and the house almost always had a few hundred newspapers spread out over an equal number of spaces. He loved baths and even more so, dirtying himself up soon after. The neighbors saw, on more than one occasion, an overexcited puppy bounding out of the ground floor flat in B block, closely followed by a distraught, panting house-member trying her best to cajole it back in. He loved hugs, legs and Pepsi. He was a complete pain-in-the-ass and I miss him like crazy.