“It is the smallest things in life that make a big difference, so even the tiniest of deeds however short can have a deep influence on people.”

Of all these small deeds my dog definitely did a number on me. So this one is dedicated to my dog, Bobby

The tale of the Dodo

-Shyam Tenali

“He is an extremely well-behaved dog, believe me. In fact he is almost human. Docile, obedient and quiet. He has never bitten anybody in his life”, Mrs.B rambled on in one breath, looking hopefully at Mother.

She was standing at our front door holding a brown-coated dog of indiscriminate breed and a foolish smile. It had a tapered face, short, straight ears and was panting as if it had run a mile. Putu and I peeped from behind Mother’s sari fearfully, our evening play forgotten.

“I had no idea he was so big”, Mother replied in an unsure voice. She had always put up stiff resistance whenever any of us had wanted a pet.

“He is not big at all”, Mrs. B contradicted instantly. “He seems so because he is standing”, she contrived. Mother’s cool reception must have unsettled her. 

“Sit Dodo Sit!!” she thumped the dog’s behind in agitation but he stubbornly refused to oblige. I giggled and nudged my five-year old brother. Whoever had heard of a dog called Dodo?

“I am not sure I can handle him. He does not even listen to you,” Mother accused mildly.

Mother never wanted to look after someone else’s pet but had to give in because of my father. Mr.B was Father’s boss. He and his wife were going out of town to attend a family wedding.” They love their dog like their own child. They don’t want to leave him with anybody else,” he had said.

“There is nothing to worry,” Mrs.B assured Mother. “I have written all the do’s and don’ts down here.” She gave Mother a piece of paper which had things scribbled on it.”Give him two meals a day and keep him tied in one corner of your verandah. Then forget about him!!”

She smiled and snapped her fingers. Then she gave Mother a bag containing Dodo’s bowl, a smelly rug and his brush and soap.

“Do I have to give him a bath too?” Mother asked looking at the things.

“Only if he….you know, gets too dirty. Don’t worry; he will probably sleep like a log all day!!” A car honked in the street below. “I have to go now or I will miss the train,” she said. “Where should I tie him?”

“It is only for three days, right?” You will be back on Friday for sure?” Mother asked, leading the way to the inside balcony while we followed at a safe distance.

“Of course,” Mrs.B smiled reassuringly.” I don’t know how to thank you. Ever since we had Dodo we have rarely gone anywhere as a family. It is only because of your kindness that we can…”

The car honked again. This time loudly and impatiently, and Mrs.B left soon after in a hurry.

“What breed is he?” I asked Father when he came home. Dodo had been constantly fidgeting, pacing up and down, chewing his leash or barking his head off. He was a big dog, with a squarish-bulky body and large paws.

“Probably a cross between a German shepherd and….” He did not finish.

“German Shepherd, my foot! He is a pure Roadasian”, jeered Mother from the kitchen doorway.

“Roadasian? What breed is that?” I asked. At nine, I had a faint knowledge of breeds of dogs but this one was new.

“In plain English, it means a street dog!” Mother, now excited came to make her point.” Look at those black dots on his eyebrows. And the fact that he can’t sit in one place quietly. That is the giveaway that he is a hundred percent Roadasian!”

“Don’t believe her,” said Father. “He is probably a cross. See how friendly he is.” He let Dodo off the leash.However, Mother was not finished. “You just wait and see. Pedigreed dogs behave differently.”

Meanwhile, free at last, Dodo sprang towards us with a grin. Putu and I ran for life and climbed the bed screaming. Dodo raised his paws on the bed and wagged his tail. The he let out a yelp as Mother thwacked his behind. “Out!! Out! You are a bad dog!!”She rebuked him. And then to herself, ”Oh ! How on earth am I going to get through the next three days?”

The three days seemed like three years. Dodo hate being tied up. Whenever someone was at the door he had to bark his greetings. With the result the milkman, the vegetable vendor, our friends and neighbors stopped calling on us. He proved Mother right eventually. He piddled on the floor, chewed my best sandals and put his head in the garbage can. Mother ran after him with her rolling pin and Dodo shot across the room, his ears flattened and tail between the legs.

At mealtimes he hung about with a doleful expression waiting for scrap. I found this very convenient to dispose off my vegetables. Where food was concerned Dodo was a bottomless pit.

“Hasn’t he had his lunch? What did you give him?” Father asked in exasperation.

“Boiled rice and meat without salt just as Mrs.B told me,” replied Mother.

“Boiled meat!!” grimaced Father. “No wonder he is hovering around here. Come Dodo, I will give you some real food.” And he dropped a couple of paratha’s onto Dodo’s bowl. He gobbled it promptly and resumed his scrounging.

After dinner, Father took him out for a walk and did not return for an hour. When he did, he was dishelmed and was out of breath. “The rascal kept running all the time and then there was no sign of…!” Father didn’t finish his sentence. The next morning we found out why. Our maid had come from the terrace with her palla (the other end of the saree) on the nose. Dodo relieved himself there.

Then something happened. Dodo ran away. It was sometime in the morning after we had left for school and father for his office. Dodo found the door open and quietly took off. Mother searched the whole neighborhood frantically but he was nowhere to be seen. Father was summoned home and it was he who found him following a hunch.

Dodo was found squatting at Mrs.B’s door five kilometers from our house. How did he find the way? We could never figure it out.

“He does not like us”, Putu told Mother.” You always scold him.”

“Well, I can’t help it. He is always up to some mischief,” she replied.

The three days were up on Sunday and we all waited expectantly for Mrs.B’s arrival.

She did not turn up. She did not call or wire us either. Mother sent father to their house several times. He found it locked and the neighbors had no idea of their return. Then Father got news from the office. Mr.B had extended his leave for a couple of weeks. Mother flopped on a chair. “I had a bad feeling about this from the start,” she said. “I even suspect she had planned it all long. Or why would she tell me to give him a bath?” She was really upset.

Since, Dodo had overstayed his welcome; he became the proverbial uninvited guest. Mother and father ignored him as much as possible. Mother said that since Mrs.B had not kept her word, she did not deserve any consideration. It gave Puttu and me the ripe opportunity to get close to Dodo. By now we had both overcome our fear of him. After school he would leap at us and lick our faces. We took him upstairs to teach him new tricks. He just would not learn. Let alone learning new tricks, I used to think he did not even know one.

“You can’t teach an old dog new tricks”, Mother said.

“How do you know he is old?” asked Putu who did not understand the proverb.

“Look at him. Lazing around all day and up to no good,” Mother replied.

She was the only one he was afraid of. She threatened Dodo with a bath every time he even stepped into the bedroom. So he would wait outside impatiently for the sugar lumps she distributed every morning after the morning puja.

When Father returned from work, Dodo followed him around like a shadow and sat near his feet. Occasionally, he would put his muzzle around his lap and wag his tail if he happened to look at him. Father got the hint.

“I think he is trying to tell me something”, he exclaimed in wonder. Nobody believed Dodo was capable of such an intelligent thought-process.

Within a couple of weeks, we got used to him. It was as if he was always our dog. I even wrote an essay on him tilted “My pet”. Putu made a drawing on him, though not very accurate one. The drawing looked more like a giraffe rather than a dog. Father bought him a new bowl and mother gave him an old rug throwing away the smelly one.

And then Mrs. B returned!! No one was glad to see her. Not even Dodo. Initially, he thumped his tail and pulled back his ears, but when he saw her he soon slipped under the sofa and refused to come out.

“I feel ill Sudha, right after the wedding and the doctor asked me not to travel, thus Ravi had to extend his leave…” she rambled on.

Gloom descended on the house when she finally took him away. Putu howled and I cried myself to sleep. Even mother looked sad. “He was not a bad sort,” she admitted ruefully consoling Putu. Well he was never our dog to start with.

Dinner was a torture as we kept looking under the table for him.

Early nest morning at dawn we were woken up by commotion at our house. Somebody was scratching our door desperately. Armed with a stick and light, Father opened the door a crack. A wet nose and whiskers and a grateful bark greeted him. Dodo had run away again. Only this time I felt he was home.