♪…How can I help it if I think it’s funny when you’re mad,
Trying hard not to smile, though I feel bad;
I’m the kinda guy who laughs at a funeral,
Can’t understand that now?
Well, you soon will…♪
That’s the attitude Romeo has on his face, practically, all the time. Before any confusions arise, Romeo is my rabri-coloured-fur-(“champagne gold” doesn’t quite make it), and pink-belly- possessing, vivacious-would-not-be-the-word like, six years old breed-less pup (some would say “dog”: I don’t).
I must confess, I’m struggling at writing this. It is so hard to pick just one thing about him. But, we’ve got to begin somewhere. For instance, Romeo is a essentially a gross misnomer. In the whole glee of finding an angelic pup on the street, no one bothered to do a sex-check (I wonder if this can get us some anti-female-infanticide-promotion points). It was only a month after Romeo had stormed our lives that someone exclaimed, “Romeo?? This girl should be called ‘Juliet’!” We ate little that day.
Romeo remained Romeo. No one had the heart to get all chivalrous and gentle just because he had turned out to have “she” body parts. And so, we brought up Romeo like a tom boy. Actually, I take liberties when I claim we brought up Romeo: he did that pretty much himself.
If Romeo was to be (more) human, he would probably be this stormy Casanova, who could get any girl he wanted; or, he would be the village Jack, whom everyone would think of when in trouble. In school, he would have been the mind behind ingenious plans of mass bunking; chuckling, he would mock the front benchers, “You… [chuckle, chuckle]… you come here to study?”.
Romeo is one of those blessed souls whose very presence is therapeutic. He hails from a limited edition of individuals who’ve mastered the art of “Live, and make live”, and have done it so beautifully that life seems to be with them. With just a single scratch and “Woof!” (indicating, “Mujhe paneer do!”), he brings you back to life, no matter how profound your deviation. With the world fast getting infested with stinky corporates who work their lives off in the quest for the green paper (and the so-called “good life”), it is the Romeos of the world who lead the way through showing off what life can really be, how without saying anything you can say so much, how without even having to think you can effect change.
Mathew Arnold said, “The more people I meet, the more I love my dog.” With Romeo, you don’t need any such contrasts. I wonder if Tagore had a dog when he was writing “Where the mind is without fear, and the head is held high…”?
Labels: Puppy Biography