there are four dogs who consider the office their personal quarters, at least during the daytime. boloh and cheetah, a brother-sister pair, are both five years old and sweetly adult: calm, food oriented, loving and loyal. chicu and tanka (see right) are another brother-sister pair, and a recent addition to the brood. five months old, they vacillate between being total terrors and delightfully delicious.despite the frequent piles of poop the puppies leave around the office, the proclivity of one of them to chew on my computer’s power cord, the tendency of the other to chew on my favorite pair of flip flops, and the penchant of all four to engage in impressive wrestling matches throughout the day, i am more than thrilled with this doggy set-up. in india, the ratio of seeing someone kick a dog to seeing someone walking one on a leash is about 500:1, if that. i find it fortuitous that i am in india again, working on women’s rights issues, at an ngo whose staff not only has a fondness for animals, but actually welcomes a few lucky street dogs into the office. my heart warms simply by being here. i feel tremendously lucky.
the other night, just before i left to walk home, i sat down on a chair in the main room of the office. cheetah, a tan and white mutt, whose odd looks are overpowered by her sweet disposition, was curled up in the chair next to mine. as soon as i plopped exhaustedly down onto the woven chair, she nudged herself over, resituating to expose her furry belly to me, knowing full well that i would happily comply. cooing softly, i rubbed in circles, then up and down, then left to right.
well aware that these dogs get into plenty of mischief and roll around in plenty of shit during their daily jaunts outside the office, i examined the downy hair on her belly as i massaged. spotting the expected enemy, i sighed and pointed it out to my friend and coworker pratima. another tick, i exclaimed, getting up to get some old newspaper to serve as a glove. it was swollen, and attached, and i predicted some bloodshed as i severed its head from its ugly, gross, bulbous body.
gripping the tick firmly between my newspaper-covered fingers, i pulled, gently but firmly. unsuccessful, i repositioned the newspapers, and my angle of approach, and tried again. still no luck. i audibly sighed again as pratima babbled to me incoherently in gujarati. exasperated, i thought to myself that people here really just do NOT know how to take care of dogs.
pratima interrupted my thoughts with a sharp “look!” and a hand pointing to the tick. i did. i looked at the tick and prodded a bit. i looked closer, and realized my error. the tick was not a tick. it was cheetah’s nipple. a little off-center and a little bit larger than the rest, and a little odd looking perhaps, but without a doubt, a nipple. i started laughing at first, joining my coworkers who had already realized my blunder, then quickly felt awful. i worried i had lost cheetah’s trust and affection forever, her warm welcome in the morning, her generous licks throughout the day, and perhaps most importantly, her invitations to rub her belly.
but i needn’t have worried. no sooner had i apologetically dug my face into her belly than she energetically licked my forehead, sniffling and snuffling my hair as she did so. i spent a couple more minutes with her, praising all of her wonderful attributes and letting her know what a goddess i think she is, smelling her wonderfully aromatic paws and kissing the top of her nose. and then i set out for home, comfortable and confident that i was in her good graces once again.
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