People keep asking me why I don’t have a dog. Whenever I visit a dog-owning friend, I typically end up spending more time with the dog than with the friend. Dogs love me because, thanks to my years as an Indian journalist, when they see me they see one of their own. I find it easy to get down to their level when I communicate with dogs. I never talk down to them or boss them around. No patronising remarks like ‘attaboy’, ‘sit’ or ‘where’s the story?’
And yet, I’ve never had a dog. I’ve avoided keeping pets for the same reason that a great man started the Swachh Bharat Abhiyan: horror of open defecation. It’s simple: I don’t keep a pet because I can’t be bothered to clean up after it. I wish every aspiring (and incumbent) pet owner had the same level of common sense. One reason why I consider Swachh Bharat Abhiyan a missed opportunity is that it forgot to include a campaign targeting dog owners.
In India, there are two kinds of dog owners: One — a microscopic minority — walks their dog with leash in one hand and a poop scooper in the other. The second kind, which comprises the vast majority, performs open defecation by proxy. Every morning, they take their dogs out for a defecation tour of the neighbourhood. Wherever they see a stretch of footpath more than 80 cm long without dog poop on it, they get their pets to fill the gap.
Disgusting behaviour
I walk Kattabomman to his school bus stop every morning, and by now, I have acquired intimate knowledge of the shape, quantity and texture of the poop ejected by the different dog breeds owned by the bipeds in my locality. I won’t bore you with the details but did you know, for instance, that a Pomeranian’s poo is more macho than an Alsatian’s? Or that a Dalmatian’s poo is not spotty at all, unlike what you would expect?
If you find all this talk of excreta on a Sunday morning disgusting, I have a suggestion: please reserve your disgust for all the great souls who think it’s beneath them to pick up after their dog. Next time you see them coolly walk away after their dog has desecrated a public place, stop them and tell them, “Your behaviour is disgusting.”
I myself missed a chance to do so last week. I was standing on the footpath outside our housing complex, waiting for a cab and generally minding my own business when a big brown dog came running towards me. Connected to the dog by a leash, and lurching along a few paces behind, was a big brown t-shirt with a man in it.
The dog halted a couple of feet from where I was, looked me up and down, as if carefully assessing my suitability for a sensitive diplomatic assignment. After a brief moment of hesitation, it came to a decision. It lowered its hind legs, and began to defecate furiously. To the dog’s credit — it was a Lab — it was a disciplined pile of poo, reasonably easy to collect with a poop scooper, and I expected the brown t-shirt to do so. Instead, both dog and owner began to walk away.
Typically Delhi
“Hello sir,” I called after him. “Aren’t you going to pick this up? You can’t dirty a public place like this.”
“I don’t have anything with me,” he said.
“So you are going to leave it like this?”
“I brought the dog outside the Society,” he said “What more do you want?”
That’s when I realised he lived in the same complex as me. I hoped he wasn’t in some stupid committee with potential to cause me problems.
“You think it’s okay to dirty the street as long as your housing society premises are clean? You look like an educated man who loves his country. Is this street not a part of India? Is it part of a neighbouring country that shall remain unnamed? Being a pet owner comes with its responsibilities. One of them is to carry a poop picker. If you can’t, don’t keep a dog.”
“Hold on,” he said. “Who do you think you are — to lecture me? Is this your father’s footpath?”
That was a typical Delhi bully manoeuvre. Very familiar. I stuck to the core issue.
“Sir, I said. “I am sorry that you can’t even afford a poop scooper. Please share your complete address, I will order it for you.”
He wasn’t enthused by my offer. He muttered some curses, turned around and followed his dog as it dragged him away. By then, my cab had arrived, and I also left. But the steaming pile of dog poop, rest assured it’s still there.
The author of this satire, is Social Affairs Editor, The Hindu.
sampath.g@thehindu.co.in
