Meet my only and most steadfast companion on my birding rambles (at least around the buffalo wallow near my place) -- Bozo.
I am not being disrespectful when I call him that, in many ways he's much more than a Bozo and then again, I don't know his name either. Not surprisingly, considering how intelligent dogs are -- and how friendly too, a cluck of my tongue is all it takes for him to come around to me, provided he is not away on some ramble already.
I have known Bozo for almost two years now, meeting him first when he was a puppy being pulled around on a rope and shown around as a toy / trophy by some kids who stay near my place (that was when I intervened and told them to not strain him too much as he is still a baby; naturally I also picked Bozo up and nuzzled him and held him for almost thirty minutes, till his heartbeat slowed down and he almost dozed off in my arms). That family ended up giving him to another family and then, again Bozo was given away -- to yet another household.
Naturally, every time I came across him I would pick him up and play with him and nuzzle him close to my chest as well -- as all little puppies deserve to be.
Bozo's current owners are a nice family and they neither ill-treat him nor ignore him, but for some reasons best known to him, he always keeps an eye on me. What this means is that for all purposes I have a dog without the attendant responsibilities. For he will come willingly, play with a boisterous abandon and always thump his tail up and down, even deep in slumber at 3.00 in the morning when from up in my writer's shack (waiting for either a barn owl or an errant poem to come) I would cluck my tongue.
I have never really understood what Bozo thinks of me; there are days when he will just lie in front of our gate, for hours at end, following me with his eyes when I come and go, totally desultory and somnolent. And those when he will follow me to the corner shop wanting me to buy him some buns, frisky as a two months old puppy. On other days he would refuse the same buns but walk inside the gate as if intent on following me into the house. And there would be other extended periods of 15 days and more when all he would do Is to resolutely walk up to me, stand up on his hind legs and plant his forepaws on my chest.
The most peculiar of his behaviour however was introducing his friends to me, approaching me with this or that stringy 5 or 7 month old dog and then standing by me expecting me to probably bend down and shake hands with the newest ( and obviously wary) mutt on the block.
Sometimes, things did not stay that humorous though. Like one night, when I was returning back late, Bozo ran up to me tail wagging and then left me to go and come with a dog I had never seen around before. I have never seen a dog try to speak with its eyes as I have seen Bozo that night, for his friend had a deep cut on his chest and was bleeding. There was a gang of borewell workers (along with their truck) that had been working in the neighbourhood that day who were now eating (and drinking) and if canine eyes can speak, I could see that they had done the dastardly deed. But, though I woke up a couple of neighbours and accosted them (with Bozo right at my heels) they naturally weren't admitting anything and meanwhile, unnerved by all the gesticulating and the chatter, the other dog just walked away somewhere, so there wasn't much in the form of evidence either.
As the cliched saying goes, I could write a book to recount my birding rambles with Bozo. Who knows, I may even recount some of them here.
Bozo got into a fight with some dog a couple of days back and when I met him on Saturday, looked mad enough to go bite an iron pole. And though I clucked my tongue enough for all country hens in this part of Hyderabad to hear, he wasn't interested in coming birding with me. The reason wasn't only mental, he had a very badly injured foreleg.
That day I slipped and fell at the buffalo wallow as if I was a two-legged Bozo.
As I write this both Bozo and I are limping, what a doggone connection, no?
I am not being disrespectful when I call him that, in many ways he's much more than a Bozo and then again, I don't know his name either. Not surprisingly, considering how intelligent dogs are -- and how friendly too, a cluck of my tongue is all it takes for him to come around to me, provided he is not away on some ramble already.
I have known Bozo for almost two years now, meeting him first when he was a puppy being pulled around on a rope and shown around as a toy / trophy by some kids who stay near my place (that was when I intervened and told them to not strain him too much as he is still a baby; naturally I also picked Bozo up and nuzzled him and held him for almost thirty minutes, till his heartbeat slowed down and he almost dozed off in my arms). That family ended up giving him to another family and then, again Bozo was given away -- to yet another household.
Naturally, every time I came across him I would pick him up and play with him and nuzzle him close to my chest as well -- as all little puppies deserve to be.
Bozo's current owners are a nice family and they neither ill-treat him nor ignore him, but for some reasons best known to him, he always keeps an eye on me. What this means is that for all purposes I have a dog without the attendant responsibilities. For he will come willingly, play with a boisterous abandon and always thump his tail up and down, even deep in slumber at 3.00 in the morning when from up in my writer's shack (waiting for either a barn owl or an errant poem to come) I would cluck my tongue.
I have never really understood what Bozo thinks of me; there are days when he will just lie in front of our gate, for hours at end, following me with his eyes when I come and go, totally desultory and somnolent. And those when he will follow me to the corner shop wanting me to buy him some buns, frisky as a two months old puppy. On other days he would refuse the same buns but walk inside the gate as if intent on following me into the house. And there would be other extended periods of 15 days and more when all he would do Is to resolutely walk up to me, stand up on his hind legs and plant his forepaws on my chest.
The most peculiar of his behaviour however was introducing his friends to me, approaching me with this or that stringy 5 or 7 month old dog and then standing by me expecting me to probably bend down and shake hands with the newest ( and obviously wary) mutt on the block.
Sometimes, things did not stay that humorous though. Like one night, when I was returning back late, Bozo ran up to me tail wagging and then left me to go and come with a dog I had never seen around before. I have never seen a dog try to speak with its eyes as I have seen Bozo that night, for his friend had a deep cut on his chest and was bleeding. There was a gang of borewell workers (along with their truck) that had been working in the neighbourhood that day who were now eating (and drinking) and if canine eyes can speak, I could see that they had done the dastardly deed. But, though I woke up a couple of neighbours and accosted them (with Bozo right at my heels) they naturally weren't admitting anything and meanwhile, unnerved by all the gesticulating and the chatter, the other dog just walked away somewhere, so there wasn't much in the form of evidence either.
As the cliched saying goes, I could write a book to recount my birding rambles with Bozo. Who knows, I may even recount some of them here.
Bozo got into a fight with some dog a couple of days back and when I met him on Saturday, looked mad enough to go bite an iron pole. And though I clucked my tongue enough for all country hens in this part of Hyderabad to hear, he wasn't interested in coming birding with me. The reason wasn't only mental, he had a very badly injured foreleg.
That day I slipped and fell at the buffalo wallow as if I was a two-legged Bozo.
As I write this both Bozo and I are limping, what a doggone connection, no?
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