My happy moon has risen tonight. So let me introduce you to Batman, Blake, and Tun-na (left to right). The three bullies in our house; sons of their Pit Bull Terrier mother, Xena. At almost 10 months old, these three brothers already have the strength of any full-grown adult I’ve encountered. And as you can see in the picture, this three-seater couch is no match for them! Our bullies, along with our cocker spaniel, Scotch, our pug, Pebbles, and our pariah, Tu-Ta, make up this extended family of ours. (You’re probably already familiar with Scotch and Pebbles from my earlier blog)
My family has never been complete without a furry friend or few. And the mania has never been limited to just the canine lot. As growing up girls, we’ve taken care of hens, cock birds, rabbits, parakeets, parrots, crows, mynas, cats, goats, tortoises, hamsters, white rats, and fish. I guess it’s just something that runs in the family!
As a little one, I remember my nans (mum’s mother) recounting tales about the different animals they had as kids. She also narrated hilarious stories about neighbours pets that played up hell. We’d sit and listen to her talking about a neighbour’s parrot that duplicated the exact tone and voice in which the wife showered her husband with some fancy French; the ‘pardon my french’, kinda french, you see! Then she told us about a dog they had, that was probably evil reincarnated, as it only went for the padris and nuns and pandits; those who came to the gate in religious garb. Stories from Nana were always intriguing, and most of them are etched in my memories of happy childhood days.
Having a pet as a part of the family just comes naturally to us. I could never imagine having to go through teenage heartbreaks without my dogs around me. Mom and Dad always knew all the relevant details, but my special four-legged partner knew the deepest hurting of my heart. I would never want to believe that I’d just walk in straight through my front door, without being greeted by the cavorting of my mongrels. It would be difficult to think about a packet of anything being opened; that made even the slightest sound; without the puppers wagging their tails off their butts, and surrounding you with their covetous eyes. I call them ‘mongrels’, and ‘puppers’, and ‘gundas’ and all sorts of terms that I think of because we’ve never had just one breed at any one given point of time. And the word ‘Take’ is like the golden buzzer at home, because it only means that there’s something for them to put into their gobs and chew upon. So we use it with caution unless we want to lure them away from a petrified guest or helpless squirrel.
But this is us, the Auberts; two-legged, four-legged, and all the legs in between! This is how we will probably always be and I’m sure that it could only get better than this; never worse, and never normal!