’Woof, woofself & wolverine’ is the writer’s impression of what his dog would have said had he been able to speak. He is sure the reader will enjoy this far more than any of his earlier reviews… save for his ludicrous piece on the five best writers- humour in this case will be at the foolishness of the review. The words of his dog- Boxer by breed, Mango by name:
Greetings human. Not nice you don’t twist your neck and smack your lips. That’s how strangers say hello in Caninic. Anyways… my name’s Mango. Dunno who cooked it up. I guess it was that eternal bungler Laxman- the joker that he is. Yeah that must be it. Anyways… lucky I don’t have to tell others of my mind about my name. How do you do? Fine I hope.
Well this bloke, Laxman, asked me to woof around here simply because he thought it’d be nice to let you know what a dog feels about you humans. Trust me, there’s a lot of confusion in your lives. Never consider what us guys do sitting around by the side of the road, do you? They’re our regular meetings like when we tell each other jokes about the humans in our respective clans. Instead of giving you my own opinion of you humans, which could land me in trouble with that bloke Laxman, lemme give you excerpts of those conversations. Disclaimer: all opinions stated here are the opinions of those who’ve been said to have stated them and I, Mango the Boxer, am in no way responsible for them.
As told by Ludo(Nice chap, Ludo lives three blocks away- Pomeranian by breed.)
It takes a lot of thinking to understand the logic behind the huge procedure called the morning walk. The things are dark out there still when the old man comes along shouting my name aloud like crazy. Thinks I’m deaf, may be, but he’s a moron to do that. Pulls out a choke-chain, nasty dastardly pieces of dirt-laden metal they are, straps it to my neck. Then he pulls out the leash, less dirt laden, but nasty and dastardly still. Hooks it on the harness and then, as if I’m thickheaded to not know what’s next even after having gone through this part for the past three years every day, he yells:’I’m going to take you for a walk today, Ludo.’
Big deal I say. I never knew. Who could guess? Sheesh!
Then you have him amble across the courtyard like someone’s tied a hundred dozen meatloafs to his leg, opens the gate. Again considering me a pighead to not know what’s next, tells me to’set off, Ludo!’. May be that’s why matadors get paid more than dog trainers- this behaviour suits bulls more than dogs. Anyways…
Funny thing to walk on two legs is this. He puts a step ahead and I’ve gone three by then. Dunno what that guy’s got in his head. He sees another dog nearby. Picks up a stone and pelts it at him. Hurts to see that, don’t it? Anyways…. Then this birdbrain walks exactly the same road everyday. Think he’s afraid to check a new road. The same trees to scratch. The same lamp-posts to pee on. Wonder what’s so fun.
And, guys, tell me how he can manage without peeing himself. Never see him doing it, have you?
As told by Jojo(* the chap who lives on the top floor of my apartment complex*)
Human behaviour is something which wise individuals wouldn’t try to understand. Too much of intellectual energy wastage. Hell, it’s better to find new feline ghettos. The lunch and dinner, crazy things…. You tolerate the way they do it? Not that the food they offer is bad. I have to grant it to them that they serve wonderful grub. The problem is those yappies serve it in a stupid steel plate in a stupid corner of the courtyard. And there’s a newspaper all over to absorb the drool. No fun eating without letting the spit fall, is there any?
Anyways… they eat on’tables’ with funny contraptions in their hands. Don’t see them hunting nothing, actually. More like fidgeting around in the house with hot stuff. Almost like photosynthesis without the sun. Wonder what’s in it all. Anyways…. Then they have this crazy thing about not letting me enter the place where they eat. Dogs are we?
The holy smurfs that they are! I’m going to arrange for a major vermin coup de grace like if they do it any longer. Yeah… I’ll kinda roll on flee-filled mud-piles and the house will be full of vermin!
As told by Ginger(the most beautiful btch- forgive me- that walked this earth*)
Life for a btch is no different than for a dog- there’s no chivalry here, no sir. You have a choke chain on a dog. You have it on a btch. You have a tight leash for a dog. You have it for a btch. You’re kicked out of their dining place. You’re done that if you’re a btch. The worst thing is…. That guy of the house bathes me! Aarrgghh! Gross intrusion of privacy, harassment I should say.
And the bath is out in the courtyard. Not in Rome, BC, am I? Cold water from a darned hose, stupid no-fragrance soap that doesn’t lather, a hard brush that scratches the skin like crazy…. What do they care about my skin, my hair? Ok I can’t bathe myself. Doesn’t hurt to let a lady do that is it? Sigh…. This is life….
As a note to the reader human
Let me give you a note on Canine-Ethics
# It might be funny to watch us sniff around the house after you’ve let the guest go, but it’s still polite to allow me to say hello to him in the first place.
# Don’t think it’s funny to hold our tails while we scramble around to free it.
# Smelling each others’ behind is official protocol- don’t stop it.
# By peeing on lamp-posts we fortify the extent of our territories. Police not liking it are crazy pigheads.
# A snack every thirty minutes is politeness. Everything else is exploitation.
# And don’t cuddle us when we’re on our walks. What if the b*tch nearby sees it?
# And dogs have love affairs. Drooling ones.
Having made his point, Mango went forward to bug Laxman and nagged behind him till he finally agreed to take him out for a walk. I suppose that was a reward Mango deserved after he was made to write here, on a human forum.