Puppy love

Friends,

Thought I'd share a new story from 'Chickensoup for the soul'...quite liked it myself :)
Enjoy !!

At age thirty-two, I had just about given up on ever getting married. Over the years, I’d had numerous relationships. Some were wonderful - and some were real disasters. About the only thing they had in common was that they all ended. The entire relationship and dating scene was wearing me down. I was tired of relationships with no potential. I was weary of putting my heart out there and getting it smashed. Getting married was starting to look like it wasn’t in the stars for me. Giving up on marriage was one thing. But I wouldn’t, and couldn’t, give up on my heart. I wanted to love and be loved. I needed to nourish my heart in a way that even my best-intentioned friends and family members hadn’t done for me. I needed a dog.

Soon, on an afternoon in early May, I found myself peering into a pen on a friend’s farm, studying a litter of eight black and white puppies who were playing on and around their mother, a champion Border collie. The puppies were six weeks old and as cute as only puppies can be. I slid through the door and sat down. The puppies, wiggling with excitement and apprehension, quickly jitterbugged over to the safety of their mother’s side. All except one. The tiniest one, an almost all-black ball of downy fur with two white front paws and a white breast, came sidling over to me and crawled into my lap. I lifted her up and looked into her puppy-hazy brown eyes. It was instant love. “Just remember, Puppy, you chose me, okay?” I whispered. That was the beginning of the longest successful relationship I’ve ever had. I named my puppy Miso. The next weeks of a glorious early spring were spent basking in the glow of literal puppy love while housebreaking, training and establishing new routines. When I look back, that whole spring and summer was spent incorporating her into my life and me into hers. Miso’s Border collie heritage dictated lots of time outdoors, preferably running. I’d been eager to have company while I ran my almost-daily three to five miles in predawn darkness, and now I had a running buddy. Miso and I were out in all kinds of weather, rarely missing a day. Weekends and evenings were spent in quiet, loving solitude with Miso. At my writing desk or art table, Miso would lie relaxed at my side and sigh with contentment. Anywhere I went, Miso came too: camping, swimming at a local lake on weekends, long car rides to my parents’ home in the summer. If an activity precluded taking a dog along, I wasn’t much interested in it anyway. We were a happy couple . . . inseparable and self-sufficient. My heart was nourished, and I felt content and full. We spent two years this way.

Looking back, it’s remarkable that I met my husband-to-be at all. I certainly wasn’t looking for Mr. Right anymore, not when I was so happy being a “single mom” to Miso. Bob just kind of popped into my life, or rather, our lives, because Miso was definitely impacted by Bob’s appearance on the scene. At first, Bob accepted Miso as part of the “package.” Our dating consisted of lots of outdoor activities where Miso accompanied us easily. But as fall and winter approached, and Miso needed to be indoors more due to cold and wet weather, trouble brewed. Bob wasn’t enthusiastic about dog hair or mud on the furniture and insisted that Miso stay outside when we spent time at his house. Since the amount of time spent there was increasing, it bothered both Miso and me that she was required to stay outdoors. This was an uncomfortable blip on the radar screen of an otherwise growing and loving relationship with Bob. A crisis point was reached one particularly cold January night. Bob insisted that Miso bunk out on the enclosed porch for the night, a location Miso and I felt was unacceptable considering the temperature. I argued that anything less than Miso’s admittance to the basement was cruel and inhumane treatment. He argued that I was being unreasonable, and he felt I should respect his “house rules.” We went back and forth like two lawyers arguing a Supreme Court case. Things got heated. Tempers flared. We reached an impasse and stood, staring steely-eyed at each other. The next thing I knew I heard my own voice, thick with emotion, declare, “Don’t make me choose between you and Miso, because you may be in for an unpleasant surprise!” Bob looked shocked, and in the face of my determination, wisely backed off. Miso was admitted to the warm basement for the night. The entire indoor/outdoor Miso arrangement was renegotiated over the next couple days and we reached a satisfactory compromise for all three of us. That crisis was a turning point. I realized I had issued my ultimatum in all seriousness. Bob realized that I did not solely depend on him for love and affection - I had loyalties beyond him. And Miso found her new place in my life, no longer my one-and-only, but as a beloved member of a family for that’s what we became. Bob and I married, and soon our threesome became a foursome with the birth of our daughter. Eleven years later, Miso is over fourteen years old. Partially blind and deaf, she suffers the infirmities of old age now, enduring diabetes and arthritis with dignity and grace. The relationship between Bob and Miso has undergone an amazing transformation. Now I watch Bob tenderly guide Miso to find me when she has “misplaced me” in our house, and lovingly help her up the front steps on a rainy night. I believe Bob has grown to respect the debt he owes Miso. For Miso held a place ready in my life for Bob. She gave love a foothold. There was never any need to choose between Bob and Miso - both had already laid claim to my heart. Sometimes now I look into Miso’s eyes, which see only shadows, and speak in her ear, though I know she no longer hears, and tell her once again: “Remember, you chose me.”

Yours truly – 4

I was not at all able to concentrate on anything at all. This month I was in charge of a very important project. Manoshi was into several welfare projects funded by United Nations Development Project fund. And one of them was actually an experimental workshop for jute crafts. Manoshi had managed almost several hours of man (in fact woman) days so that the oppressed women folk for whom we fight get an even footing economically. And I was actually entrusted to do the arduous task of pouring over the finances of the project. But my work was actually not on my mind now. It was relentlessly spinning from the myriad of questions that were coming to my mind. Did Vivek know my feelings and had so come to me and only me as his friend? Why is he not going to proper authorities? Did Chandreyi really wanted a better security in terms of wealth than she had with her first hubby? Or she really had those evils machinations in her mind as Vivek is pointing to? And what or how can I help Vivek? He never pointed at any thing to be exact. My mind was going into a tizzy. It was 4 PM.
The man in Sejal’s thoughts was himself in a kind of quandary. He remembered very vividly the last time when he was in a similar situation and when he was really looking for support, this sober and sweet gujarati provided it unconditionally. May be this is what is called a reflex reaction. He had been again hurt pretty badly by the same person and he had turned to the same person for solace!! Vivek came out of the restaurant thinking all these things when suddenly he became aware then some kind of reflection getting to his eyes. It was similar what he used to do in childhood with a mirror to his father to get his attention. He squint his eyes and tried to make out the source. This part of the town was almost filled with all the types of people during lunchtime. It was very much possible that this reflection can be almost from anything. Vivek just could not make out anything in that lunch hour din. Shrugging his shoulders he went towards his rented Skoda parked in little Russel Street. He was a car freak. And that was well known within his firm. As was the norm he had kept the car at neutral so that it can be pushed a bit to make the space for other cars. After switching on the AC he was about to get the car in the drive mode, he became aware of a reflection again.
After sitting for some time with her hands on her head, Sejal went out to the cafeteria for a cup of tea. Manoshi may not have boasted of a fat pay packet but the cafeteria that she had could have made many a eye brows go up with appreciation and envy. Decorated into taste full pastel shade it provided a glamorous view of Park Street with the Victoria Memorial at its backdrop. The cuisine on offer was actually a very tasteful mixture of Bengali and non Bengali fare. The cafeteria also did boast of a good continental menu for the people who are simply health conscious. Sejal spotted Kunal Da sitting in one solitary corner and promply joined him. She always used to discuss any complex case with this person who seemed to be really a good listener. After hearing to her story Kunal da did not say anything for almost a minute. And then he suddenly started laughing. Surprised sejal gave him a questioning look. “Shejol, is this guy the same one that was once your favorite in college?” Suddenly Sejal could really feel herself blushing and that gave her away. “So you want to help this guy out, right?” Even before she could have answered he said, “But do you understand one thing – that Vivek has got almost nothing other than the bank statements to prove any charges against his wife?” Sejal knew it very well and in fact if even Vivek would have gone to the proper authorities with his allegations he would have turned down then and there. In her professional life Sejal had seen many times that although the guilt might have been equally shared by the lady, when it came to penalty it had been always the lord of the house who was laid on sacrificial alter. In fact in India the law is very much biased towards the fairer ones. ”But Kunal Da, there should be something that can be done – isn’t it?” she asked nervously. “ Yeah!! Something could be done always. But before I comment any further I want to know what is there in your mind? Have you told Vivek about your feelings? Because being a man myself I can understand that if Vivek would have known about your feelings, he would have never approached you at all.” Sejal knew that fact very well.
After looking here and there for some time suddenly Vivek spotted the source of reflection. It was coming from the rear view mirror of a steel grey Maruti 800 two cars in front of him. The driver seemed to be adjusting the mirror. Shrugging his shoulders he started his own vehicle and careened into the post lunch rush of cars. He was actually heading towards the Emami office at R N Mukherjee road. P&G and Emani had been co-branding their products for a long time. If you buy soap from P&G stable you get an Emami all purpose cream. And going by the Asian mentality of striking the bargain always both P&G and Emami was benefited well from the association. He took up the through fare on the side of Raj Bhawan and was actually concentrating on the road, when suddenly he spotted a steel grey Maruti coming a bit behind him. There are so many steel grey cars of the same make in Kolkata that he had not paid any heed to it. But then he noticed that one side of the car behind him had the same scratch that he had notice in the Maruti with reflecting rear view mirrors in Little Russell Street. Just to be sure that he had something at all to do this, he eased on the accelerator paddle. And not surprising as he thought the car behind him did the same too. Through his rear view mirror he saw that the driver was a middle aged person. Although his could spot the attire properly, he could see that the man was sporting a sun glass and was clean shaven.
Sejal heard her phone ringing and started to pick it up when she noticed the number flashing in the display. It was Vivek’s. She took the call and after hearing to the other end almost all blood drained away from her face. “What is the matter, Sejal?” Kunal asked looking at the change in expression. “Vivek is been followed around the town.” “ And where is he going right now?” Kunal asked quickly. On hearing the destination, Kunal thought over it for a second. And then suddenly he took out his cell phone and rang up someone. He gave the person on the other end the gist of the situation and then hung up. “ “C’mon, let’s move”. Taking a bewildered Sejal in his wings, they went at a brisk pace towards Sejal’s car where luckily they found Savitri enjoying a bit of after noon nap. “ “Shabitri, please take us to R N Mukherjee road now.” Kunal barked a command. Although surprised Savitri got the car on gear and they all started off towards their destination. Vivek was actually in two minds. Whether to go towards his destination and make the meeting or should he try and inform the authorities about the whole thing? Although a bit afraid he was also feeling angry at being tailed like this. And at any cost he could not let go of the pursuer before he heard from Sejal. He was very near to the Chandni Chowk Metro Station when suddenly his mobile started ringing. Expecting Sejal to be on line, he picked up the phone and said hello. “So Vicky Basu, do you think that you can get away from me so easily using that b**ch?” The caller was Chandreyi and her voice sounded ominous.