While Walking the Dogs

Our niece walked through her front door, face suffused with suppressed amusement laced with a tinge of indignation. “Wait till I see that Uncle Albert!” “What’s happened?” “I have lived on this street all my life and this is the first time that the mochi, the chanawala, the fruit man and the paanwala, and sundry other people have called out to me!!”

I guess I should start at the beginning. We had moved in temporarily with our niece; we meaning my husband, our two dogs and I. My husband was away for the day and the niece had volunteered to walk the dogs – something my husband enjoyed and indulged in three times a day. Since we did not join him in this pastime, we had a lot of learning to do! Our niece – a dog lover too – was happy to be led by the large collie and the little pom while following their usual route. What she did not expect was to hear herself being hailed every so often with the call, “Uncle kahan gaye? Hell-ow Bonnie, hell-ow Sweetie.” To say that she was taken aback would be an understatement. Apparently, my husband had made friends with everyone on the block in the space of just a few days.

I was to discover still more. I undertook the ‘night shift’ and last walk of the day. And I was duly greeted by every watchman at every gateway. Since my four-legged companions insisted on completion of the route before turning back toward home, I followed them gingerly through dimly lit alleyways. I did not have to worry about safety: the collie’s size and the pom’s bark were sufficient to the task of safeguarding their mistress. Also, the policeman on the beat had apparently made their acquaintance. Somewhere along the way, two scantily clad women heavily made up and leaving no one in doubt about their occupation swooped noisily on the dogs, cooing and fussing over them, calling to them by their names.

When hubby returned the next day, I was waiting for him. “I can understand the vendors and the watchmen. But the ladies of the night? Really!” “What can I do, they wanted to pet the dogs,” he replied with a sheepish grin, “they mean no harm.”

All future walks, whenever I stood in for my husband, were always eventful, with new ‘friends’ to greet: the elderly gentleman on his morning constitutional, the schoolchildren all vying with each other to shake a paw, the street urchins and other dog walkers. I began to look forward to these sociable encounters.

This was a side of my husband that I was happy to discover – the ability to ‘walk with crowds and keep his virtue or walk with kings and not lose the common touch’. Very few have the gift.

And it is a lovely feeling to know that I am watched by friendly smiles when I venture down the street, even though Bonnie and Sweetie are no longer around.