Tales Told by Dogs
(4 min read)
Doodle
Hi, Good Morning! I’m Doodle, a black Labrador retriever (America’s most popular breed), and adored by my family, super-efficient at search, though no relation of Google. Resident of Bhopal. Don’t you call me a foreigner. Just as early man began in Africa, and fanned out to make home all over the world, my ancestors once frolicked in the icy waters of Labrador in the Canadian Province of Newfoundland, but migrated all over. In India, only the progeny of the dogs mentioned in the puranas are the original inhabitants of this land. All others including me have made this beautiful land our home. I’m proud to call myself an Indian Labrador retriever, totally at home in the tropical climate.
I’ll be eleven in a few months. In human age equivalent, I’m 62, a senior citizen. Don’t be surprised, therefore, if you find pearls of wisdom in my short tale.
I’m trilingual, and understand Sambalpuri (my Dad’s mother-tongue), Hindi, and English. But language is only one of my tools, and I communicate by drawing upon my superior ability to smell, hear, and study people around me.
Let me give an example. When Dad begins packing his suitcase, I know he’s going for a trip. He doesn’t tell me, but I know. I look at him, straight in the face, and ask, ‘Where to, how many days, when do you return, will you get a treat for me, remember my favourites- chew-bones and smoked-chicken nuggets?’ Dad has no difficulty in understanding all my questions, complaints, concerns, and submissions.
We’ve lived together for 11 years, and have perfected the art of silent, seamless communication. I can count the furrows on his forehead, and guess how irritable he is; note the sparkle in his eyes and know he is happy and willing to give me a rub and scratch my ears, (oh, how I love that!). I can also smell the chemicals he emits unknown to himself, and know his mood of the moment. When he’s writing in his notebook or clicking away at this keyboard, he smells very different, and totally ignores me, as though I am not around.
I also cock an ear at the ongoing conversation in the house. I know who is speaking to whom and about what. When Dad and Mom have an animated discussion, I leave them to it and make myself scarce, that being my gentle rebuke for their exceeding the decibel level appropriate for harmonious conjugal conversation, in my humble canine opinion.
Recently, I heard on TV that a dog is the richest pet in the world. I even saw his photo. I cast a glance at Dad, meaning to ask about my bank balance, but he flipped to Netflix and got absorbed in an American sitcom which didn’t interest me.
Gunther VI
Hallo, Guten Morgen! Gunther VI, His-Highness, etc, and Top-Dog, here. I speak only through my media manager, never directly to commoners, but today I’m making a one-time exception, not to be treated as precedent.
Read my tale, and you’d think twice before cursing about ‘a dog’s life.’
You may have heard of King Henry VIII, on whom Shakespeare wrote a fine historical play, and of the regnal name for Charles Philip Arthur George who would be known as King Charles III after coronation. The Roman numeral in my name, as in that of the royals, signifies a proud lineage. I’m no less Royal, being the Richest Pet in the World, the Top-Dog, with a net worth of $500 million and counting. I don’t need to brag for I’m richer than most humans - per capita net worth in the World being only $8360, and that of the wealthiest country USA being $95255 - far, far below mine.
No ill-gotten wealth, my fortune is from ‘inheritance and investment.’ Fact-check the tax returns of Gunther Corporation, if you doubt my claim. Yes, That’s my Corporation, of which I’m the CEO!
My Grandpa, Gunther III, struck it big when he received an endowment from Countess Karlotta Leibenstein in 1992. Don’t know much about G I and G II, who laid foundations for our lineage, but they were simply dogs, and not Dogs of Wealth.
I’m a global citizen, a German Shepherd who hails from Italy and travels all over the world in style. I got a private aircraft, a yacht, and all those fancy automobiles that most humans dream about. I also own real estate in Italy, the Bahamas, the US, and Germany.
I’m too rich to be any one’s pet, live in a mansion, and have hired thirty employees- chef, chauffeur, personal groomer, security, etc. - for my various needs. No one commands me to go fetch a ball, I ask my Physical Trainer to give daily exercise to race my heart and prevent blockage of my arteries.
Some disgruntled people call me a ‘fake,’ a fictitious character created as a prank. Don’t believe them. You may like to watch the Netflix film: Gunther’s Millions, to be released on Feb 1. Once I watch it, my media folks will issue a statement on my behalf.
Time for my snooze. Haben Sie einen guten Tag!
Puranic Dog
Suprabhatam, Namaste!
If you know your Mahabharata, you know me. I’m the one who followed Yudhisthira, and went to Heaven with him. That makes me the only dog in all the myths of the world to have made it to Heaven.
Of course, you know what happened. I’m not Yudhisthira’s pet, or of any of the Pandava brothers or Draupadi. As this motley crowd began walking up to heaven, somewhere along the route, I tagged along. Yudhisthira tried to dissuade me from undertaking this perilous, arduous journey, but I was as determined as him, so he let me follow him. Draupadi, and all the valiant brothers of Yudhisthira succumbed to exhaustion, and lack of oxygen, I guess; but Yudhisthira and I were made of stronger mettle, and made it to our destination.
Indra opened the gates of heaven. Strange for the King Himself to open the gates. Were all his gatekeepers on leave that day, I wonder? Indra welcomed Yudhisthira but refused to take me in. Heaven is an Exclusive Club, you know, he told Yudhisthira, and Dogs are Prohibited. Yudhisthira surprised me when he said, ‘This dog has given me company when I was alone. He has given me solace when my dear brothers and Draupadi perished on the way. Though not my pet, I can’t leave my steadfast companion high and dry. If I come to heaven, he comes with me; or else, thanks for your invitation, but no, I refuse to go there alone.’
Yudhisthira spurned Heaven for me, a mere dog, and not even his pet! Do you think the Countess who bequeathed her millions to Gunther III would have spurned Heaven for her pet?
Of course, you know that I was no dog really, but Dharma, Yudhisthira’s heavenly father. I ran that final test for my son, and he exhibited his fine and steadfast moral character, as always in the epic, except when he indulged in that stupid game of dice even though he was such a lousy player.
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