If I'm among your top hundred friends, or someone you've seen on social media over the past few months, you'd have heard of मिस्टर कद्दू (Mister Kaddu). One might advise you against taking an Instagram profile for the reality that is someone's life, but in this unique case, I assure you it is quite the truth, and the puppy does, in fact, occupy such a mammoth share of my mind.
As our year, which has been defined by this squealing, pooping, ever-hungry creature, comes to an close, I realize there's much I've learnt from this six-month old puppy. This is an attempt to document my end-of-year learnings.
Like most Indian kids who grew up in the '90s, I too had little understanding of pets. I had a few rich friends who were "pet owners", and I imagined a dog's primary purpose was to guard and protect the owner's home. I was familiar with the muscular Alsatian, the tiny (but pointless from the perspective of guarding a home) Pomeranian, and the super-massive Great Dane (thanks to Scooby Doo). The Indian pariah dog was always within eyesight, but somehow never clearly perceived.
In December 2020, life feels different: I feel more people should adopt dogs, cats and stray animals for whom they can care (cows, goats, and sheep too, if their lifestyle permits). Perhaps, I have furthered my privilege and thereby reflect the thinking of a different social-strata. Maybe someone who resembles the 1995-me will now call me "a rich dog-owner". But the words we use have changed, have they not? We are parents now, not owners.
And I realize that parenting of pets, like in the case of parenting human babies, is serious business. The responsibility that accompanies pet-parenting, and the fact that humans can help animals live safer and healthier albeit more restrained lives makes me advocate adopting animals. And I am sold on the transformative effect these beautiful creatures have on us (their effect on children and toddlers is even more profound).
Kaddu is now 6 months old, and has been part of our family two-thirds of that time. I now cannot fathom how we used to pass the time when he was not around.
His routine is rather fixed: he eats, poops, pees, sleeps, zips around the house, snaps at our ankles, steals our chappals, climbs on the sofa if we're not looking, and when outdoors, he tries to play with every human or dog within eyesight. The stark simplicity of everything he does has helped me understand several human motivations and desires that we suppress or fail to voice due to social pressures, moral considerations, or our regard for propriety.
Here are my five biggest takeaways from my interactions with Mr. Kaddu.
1. Without courage, we would live like vegetables:
The presence of kind humans who nursed Kaddu when he was injured in his early days led him to trust humans. It is likely his kind mother constantly protected him from big bad dogs when he was little, because he tries to play with all four-pawed animals even today. He is unafraid.
What began as fearlessness - not knowing the concept of fear - is through experience, slowly transforming into courage. The puppy now knows fear but still forges ahead with caution.
In a world crisscrossed with boundaries, marked by the pee of other dogs, living without courage means living like a vegetable: cooped up indoors, constantly in fear, curious about the world but unable to do a thing about it.
2. Loyalty is more than just a word:
Loyalty and trust seem to carry different meanings in the world of humans and in the world of dogs. If the latter is truth, then the former is a pale, poorly-defined shadow of this truth.
In the beginning of 2020, trust was just a word. Now, it has meaning.
Being on the receiving end of pure trust pushes you to be more responsible, to hold your own word as sacred because someone else now believes it.
3. Routines are easy to enforce when motivated by a sense of purpose
We all made lockdown resolutions: I will read more, get up early, practise Yoga, go cycling, eat healthy, learn to cook, connect more meaningfully with friends and family... But there's a huge difference between a wish and a plan.
A plan helps you develop a routine, a wish leaves you feeling unaccomplished after a few days. A wish may transform into a plan by infusing it with purpose. Answering the why makes the how, where and when easier.
Why should I get up early? Why should I practise Yoga everyday? Why must I watch less Netflix and read more books?
I never imagined I'd consistently get up at 6.30 am, even on winter mornings, that too without having to set an alarm. Turns out that my purpose would be external: if I don't get up, the puppy will make life hell. He wants his breakfast, he needs to go for his morning walk, and he needs to poop.
My morning routine is now rock-solid. It is filled with vitality and purpose. Thank you, 2020.
4. Simple joys are at least as important as long-term goals
Our floor is now strewn with toys, puppy snacks, and shreds of what used to be an Amazon carton. In other words, our floor is strewn with joy.
The past few years, I have actively discounted the present for the future. In a rationalistic extreme, I was "long" on life-progress, with life-progress defined within a limited capitalistic scope: economics, career-progress, influence, etc. There was no place for joy, no space for the here and now.
Now, the puppy has pawed at the long-term lenses, and pulled them off our eyes. There's suddenly more time for family (I'm finally taking a trip back to Chennai in January '21), for friends - who end up starting conversations with cute-puppy emojis, and for myself - I've embarked upon a journey of studying philosophy and sociology in 2020.
5. Awareness is key to survival and growth
In the outdoors, you're always aware or your life-expectancy plummets. You're constantly evaluating when to run, when to hide, how to attack, how to protect yourself from the big bad bully...
Curiosity is essential, and its hardwired into an animal's DNA. Thanks to Mr. Kaddu, I finally know the gullies and short-cuts that lead to the park behind our home. I am aware of the branches, leaves and twigs within a dog's reach. I'm learning which dogs and humans are friendly, and who cannot be trusted. Short of learning which poop belongs to which dog, I feel more connected to the earth.
This lesson has massive ramifications outside the dog-walking world though. It teaches you to stay updated and more connected with the world, every step along the way. To be less aware is to fall behind and perish.
Goodbye, 2020
It has been a crazy year, one that will stick in our collective memories for long. Mr. Kaddu has infused our work-from-home schedules with some much needed goofiness.
Here's a picture that will make you smile. Until later, bye.
