I’ve been confined to my room for a little more than two weeks now. No office. No engaging or absorbing work schedules. No business. No busyness. No loud and sans-reason laughter (the gangs that I am a part of are infamous for the Nitrous Oxide effect). I need to wait one more week for the binding plaster to be removed. It’s quite awkward and unsettling for me to stay away from regular work – at least for as long a time as two weeks. As some of my friends figured out, I haven’t so far stayed away from work even during weekends except while on vacation. So, it has definitely been boring to not go to work. But, admittedly, there were occasions in these two weeks when I quite enjoyed a nice spot of silence and solitude, some non-work thinking and a hilarious second-reading of one of Plum’s books. I probably deserve such a break…to sample life beyond work while not on a pukka vacation...and the fact that there’s nothing very inspiring about my work-life at present helps ;). Nevertheless, I’m hoping to be more productive this week – like read something good on KM! :)
So, when a friend called to find out how I was doing and what I was doing, I did not have too much to update her about. She then asked me whether I was spending time with my doggy (name withheld for reasons that will be obvious later). I winced at the thought (you’ll know why very soon) and told her that I wasn’t getting to spend time with him because he has his own room on the terrace and my movement (unfortunately for me and fortunately for my doggy) is restricted to my room. What I did not reveal to my friend was that I had indeed set up a meeting with my doggy and the consequence was an insulting (for me) episode that is better forgotten.
Before I go into the episode as such, (if you’re wondering why I am revealing it on my blog, think of writing as cathartic) I think I was right in suspecting that my doggy was secretly celebrating my absence from his life. Because, no me meant there was no one to disturb his siestas or babble continuously into his tired and already drooping ears or unnecessarily shake his paw when he had much better things to do in life like chase cawing crows.
So, after a week of hopping and dragging my feet and feeling bored, I arranged for my doggy to visit my room despite such dangers as my room being turned into a place for dog-poop. First of all, he trotted into my room and looked around and actually saw through me even as I kept calling out to him. I did not know dogs bought into the philosophy of tit-for-tat (of sorts). I almost choked but withstood the insult like a true woman and continued to vie for his attention. Once he had sort of settled down and had taken a critical look at all the objects in the room (excluding me), he grudgingly looked in my direction and showed slight signs of recognition. I took the cue and offered him a view of my plastered leg. Maybe he’d find it to be better than my face?! Though I wasn’t really looking for him to sympathize with me, I thought showing the plastered leg would help me communicate why I’d been out of action and out of his life for sometime. He gave it a quick questioning look and shifted his gaze to my face and immediately realized he had made a mistake and looked away as if hurt. Happy that he had at least reacted to my gesture, I misinterpreted his thoughts and expressions, as usual, and moved the plastered leg a bit closer to him so he could investigate it further if he wanted to. Moreover, I believed in his healing touch. To my chagrin, he seemed shocked and withdrew himself with a twitch of his nose and politely (to his credit) declined to have anything to do with leg, plastered or not.
I wonder if I am even half as good as he is when it comes to reading the other’s mind. His initial questioning look, I now understand, must have meant “Why are you getting weirder by the day? What’s this hard stuff around your leg? Have you replaced the contents of your leg with that of your brain?”
Dogs, they have to admit, for some reason are not very creative and versatile when it comes to facial expressions. They rely on their eyes and tails to do all the talking. Given that the whites of their eyes or more or less hidden under normal circumstances, there are just two scenarios for us to weigh - when the whites are visible and when they aren’t. That way, my doggy showed me the whites of his eyes frequently as he kept rotating his eye balls in the opposite direction as if afraid that he’d be spotted in my room of all the places. After a while, it got worse. I got to see his tail and had no clue what he was doing with his eyes as his back was turned towards me. Extremely offensive, to say the least. I gave up and kept the plastered leg to myself. When a woman’s best friend refuses to play with her, perhaps, the next best thing is for her to play with words? That’s why this post. And, I am contemplating a new society a la SPCA. This is to be called Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Humans. Want to lend me your paw? :D
PS: Whether you know me or not, you will have no doubts that this story is an exaggerated narration but it is certainly true that my doggy was more interested in the wall opposite me and noises of some quarreling dogs outside than my plastered leg or me for that matter. Grrrr. :) Every dog has its day. :D :) :D