Pet-lovers, I should think, have existed since time immemorial but, and this is a real Berlin Wall high but…but now keeping, nurturing designer dogs and the rest of the kitten caboodle, a fashion statement taken to an Everest-high altitude. Many, many years ago, so long back that I don’t care to pin the date I set up home on the outskirts of Delhi in a tree-lined neighbourhood with peacocks winging all over, perching themselves in your garden, dancing on terraces, wings opening into a gentle fan with mesmerizing colours, an azure blue sky that’d light up in the dark with stars bidding to outshine each other…However, that’s long forgotten—builders having bulldozed in, razing down villas and rows and rows of small houses that oddly went by the name, “Happy Homes”. Guess the architect of these look-alike houses knew that smaller abodes meant happy families, or at least the concept of having a not-too-sprawling area meant, that everyone had to breakfast together, and again, on a daily basis, bump into the fellow human occupying the adjoining room! Yes, these burly builders with their lusty, collective ambition of citifying every nook and corner, constructing high-rises, that would in a fistful of years, convert mofussil towns into mini New Yorks…the Big Apple might not yet be on the map but deep pockets afford a lifestyle boasting of the latest Audi, and penthouse residences housing a swimming pool, jacuzzi, and but naturally, an outside bar stocked with the most high-end liquor. One does not have to be a Minister of Common Sense to conclude that with the entry of this mafia, Mother Nature, skid way out of the window, taking with Her the clear sky and most of the peacocks. And the trees that branched off wherever they fancied, now tamed into manicured, cookie-cut miniature versions of their former selves. Unrecognizable, if you ask even the most unobservant and self-absorbed fellow! Anyhow, must rap my knuckles for I see once more that I lose my thread and stray off, this time around more so, and therefore a leash must be brought to rein me in! I guess uttering the word leash has had an abracadabra affect getting me back on board. (Sometimes I wish two stories could be combined!) Pets, was the topic of the day, and so to restart my brain! To cover the large, bald patch of lost time “snapshots” usually so, get the job done in time.
Snapshot 1: No longer do four or five Labradors (barley is the favoured colour of this breed) with individual leashes held by a single-hand, make you halt in your morning walk-steps for you to pause and iron out the forehead’s creases. These handful of friendly canines owned by a single person. Or to be politically correct: by a single family. Then to go a bit further into the political domain—not owned but a part of the brood of say, the Mathur, Khosla, Goyal household…these somewhat tubby, bordering on overweight, dogs generally speaking, show little enthusiasm for this walk around the block, mandatory exercise. I’d say rather unhappy with this regimented walk. First of all, they mope, walks aren’t supposed to be about knocking into one another, tails not flapping the wind, but another co-owner of the tag-end brush!
Slide 2: Veterinary doctors, bless them, but Dog Speciality, Top-of-the-Line Clinics?! Three or four health centres in the market complex of your locale and, “supply falls short of demand”, thus one hears builders once more have entered the fray. Picture posh waiting rooms, walls covered with all possible dogs, devotedly staring at you and Tommy boy. (The name is outdated so update to Charlie, Rory, Olivia…Funny how we, in a single bite, go in for English names!) Anti-rabies jabs still a life and death matter but monitoring Joey or Juliet’s heartbeat, pulse rate?! Eye checkups?! What next, a pair of snazzy spectacles, that are now called eye-wear! Muscle strength testing?! Ruff, ruff, re-eally! At the end of this can’t-do-without “routine” checkup, the precious pooch is rewarded for his cooperation or non-cooperation with a protein-pumped biscuit. The owner might want to know why his mutt is not better than the lady’s bow-wow and the Vet’s deputy psychologizes, “Competition creates a wedge not an edge in the psyche, therefore our ideology is that all are winners, no whiners!” Here the cat bites your tongue…Polaroid
photo 3: A sprawling farmhouse, so spread out, that the services of a binocular would be insufficient. On this rolling out land, a tall, lit up building with hanging balconies. Ah, what a fine place for a resort, must have a spa too—the first thoughts streaming by…And then suddenly the air is filled with what would you say, collaborative barking, making you think an attack by a herd of dogs is the fate that awaits. A guard appears from nowhere, signalling you to some underground parking lot, while grinningly welcoming you to Woof-Woof Hang-Out. This, the name of a dog hostel! With your head still swinging like a hammock one learns of shampoo and blow dry stations, recreational hubs where the hounds conglomerate. (Man is a social animal that we all knew but…Dogs desirous of company with their own kind, a first!) The list is endless, at least, to your reeling head. Café Dogavilla—biscuits, milk bowls, protein-infused snacks that come in all sizes and colours depending on the breed’s preference. A swimming pool, needless to say, on expected lines, thus no need to dive there, but what about a Family Lounge where the parents and siblings gather to talk to other parents of the Woof-Woof wards?! To exchange notes on their pets, (if they can still be called so!) their puppyhood day antics, their teething troubles etc. and etc. These regaling exchanges over piping hot coffee or chai.
And Cats, the feline race, now a rage. Siberian Forest Cats, Savannah Cats. The Ashera Cat, the most expensive of the lot. A whopping 100,000 US dollars. Cats to cuddle in bed. To smooch. No, not going too far! To carry along in Baby Slings, Cat Carriers.
I can feel the ground beneath my feet shake. I sense the old timer doggie dears are turning in their graves after hearing that pets now, solely status symbols. And so, I must put my pen to rest.