When I was about six years old, my brother who was in his early 20s brought home an Alsatian puppy given to him by his friend who was in a coffee estate. The puppy was so tiny, I wanted him as my toy. My father and mother who we re normally averse to such pets, did not show any hatred towards the puppy. In fact they too loved him so much as it looked cute.
My mother named it Kutty as he was small and was like a tennis ball. I discarded all my toys and started to play with Kutty. As weeks rolled by and then a few months, Kutty became sprightly. My mother, especially, loved him so much that she used call him, in Tamil, kuzhandhai (meaning baby). At the same time, whenever she needed me for some chore but could not find me, she would burst out calling, Andha yerumaimadu yengga pochu? (where has that buffalo gone?) Not that my mother loved me any less but she loved our Kutty more. Kutty was always a baby in the household for her.
As days passed, Kutty became well-versed in Tamil. Although he could not talk, he understood all our conversation. One day my dad told my brother, “Today is Sunday, you need to bathe the dog.” Kutty heard it and quickly disappeared from the house, only to comeback late in the evening and sneak under the sofa. My uncle always adored him and would call him a Tamil Pundit. He would always first check if Kutty was around before speaking anything confidential to my mother.
We had a wooden barrier at the kitchen door so that Kutty did not enter the kitchen.
That was okay when Kutty was really small but not when he was a year old. He used to just walk across the barrier and come into the kitchen, and as if to show that he is not interested in what was cooking, he would turn and sleep showing his back to my mother. My mother would then say chamuthu kuttan (good boy). Kutty would pretend to be fast asleep with some false snoring, but one eye partially open to see if any food was coming his way. If nothing happened for quite a while, he would make some noise to the draw my mother’s attention. My mother would then say, Idhoda oneodu chapthi ready (Here, your chapathi is ready). He loved chapathi.
When we ate at the table, he would sleep near our feet. I always caressed him with my feet. If we took too long to finish our meal he would start tickling our sole with its tongue, indicating that it was time we got up.
My maternal grandfather visited us. The moment he reached home, Kutty greeted him with a load bark. He came in calling my mother and asked, “What is this dirty dog doing here?” She replied, “It is our kuzhandhai, don’t bark at him.” Then grandpa saw mother arranging food for Kutty. Again grandpa said, “It looks like the dog is more
important than all of us.” My mother replied, “Yes, it is a baby.” My grandpa again tried to say something but he saw Kutty staring at him and kept quiet.
Kutty by then had grown to about five feet standing on his hind legs. Yet he remained Kutty to everybody even when he reached full adulthood and stood more than six feet when on his hind legs.
Kutty had a good sense of smell. Kutty and I would be playing on the terrace after I came home from school. My mother would make the afternoon tiffin of dosai or vadai and the aroma would softly blow out from the kitchen chimney. Kutty would get the smell and literally drag me to the kitchen. My mother would then give me my tiffin and take Kutty’s portion to his plate. Kutty will follow her.
When I was about 12 years, I used take him to an open grassy military playground where a few dogs from my neighbourhood would come and play, talk and exchange a lot of information among themselves. I would be sitting on the park-bench watching them run and play. After about an hour of play, Kutty would come back to me and together we used walk home.
At home one of the games Kutty and I play would be hide-and-seek. I used to hide in a secluded place in the house or the car garage or on top of a tree or in the terrace behind the kitchen chimney or behind plants and so on and would call out for Kutty. He will search and finally locate me. You should see his satisfaction on having found me. No words can describe his happiness. The other game he loved was catching the frisbee disc. He would jump as high as eight feet from the ground to catch it.
The dog was my playmate and my best friend till I was 20 and he 14. Together we spent some of the best moments of our life.
Kutty passed away peacefully in sleep one winter morning and we buried him in our compound. My mother was shaken by his demise and it took a long time before she could reconcile herself to the reality.
Even today when I think of him my eyes get moist. Thank you Kutty, for having been my best friend and part of my life in my growing-up years.
