Chapter 5 Yoyo-nama

Yoyo-nama

The Chronicle of a Foundling turned Dictator

Chapter 5

Under Bonnie’s watchful eye, some protocols were put into place that day. I had established with Yoyo, somewhat, that I would not stand for utter disobedience and disregard for house rules. Impressed and a bit chastised at the fact that I could be strict with him, Yoyo made the first placatory move. He came to me studiously avoiding looking at the plate of biscuits, and butted me with his forehead. I hugged him, under Bonnie’s just-about-approving smile. From then on, I was, I wouldn’t go so far as to say Boss, but it simply got accepted between Yoyo and I, that on most matters, he had a free hand, but on some matters I would intervene and he would obey.

This balance made for a much easier time as he grew, so that he could be around when human food was served, without us having to guard it from him. And that he would simply come when called, no questions asked, no teeth-show. Of course, Yoyo would push the limits of this balance. Soon after this, one day he didn’t listen at all when I asked him to come to me. As a half joke, I began a countdown delivered in drill-sergeant volume  (thereafter, always causing people from neighbouring buildings to laugh out loud). “IM COUNTING TILL FIVE. ONE…TWO…THREE…” I shouted as if on a megaphone. When he didn’t budge when I reached FIVE, I wasn’t quite sure what to do, and simply invented, on the spot, a pretend whirling displeasure, throwing a couple of light objects at him and using of a tone of deep sadness and disappointment and anger all cleverly rolled into one. He came out at once at this point and sat down with a saintly expression, all-attention. From then on, the countdown worked beautifully even if it had to sometimes be dragged out to four-point-five, at which point he would quietly come to me. This come-when-you’re-called learning is not just a power-play ego thing between human and dog. It is essential for various things like stopping them from doing something dangerous or stupid. This allowed us to take him outdoors often, to the wide open spaces, and have him return to us when called (most times, but more on that later).

The Maverick

Yoyo also learnt to walk on the leash at a beautiful trot, or a canter if you speeded things up, and he and I would walk 3 km to the circle and 3 km back most mornings, with the leash slack. He seemed to be almost on wheels as he walked, and with the characteristic side-winder walk that he had now developed – he looked like he was on a diagonal, but walked straight ahead on the pavement. He now had strong stocky legs, with the fur grown thick and straight, which gave him the appearance of someone wearing straight boot-cut trousers. Unlike small white dogs like the Pomeranian, Yoyo did not taper into spindly legs with itty-bitty feet. His legs and paws gave him a distinct polar bear appearance. Those broad paws served him well. He could hold his ground and not budge or be tipped over, once he planted all four on the ground and decided not to move. But on walks with me, he was the model of well-behavedness.

The first time that I had to leave Yoyo alone, after Mathangi had left, I went on a quick 24 hour trip to Mumbai. Vijaya my help, and the watchman, took turns to walk, feed, play with him. And there was Snoopy too, so in that sense, Yoyo was not all alone. However, during one stretch of these 24 hours, he was left to his own devices for a few hours, with no one around. This may have been not more than two hours. It was during this time, that he famously (the story did the rounds of the neighbourhood and other circles, for various reasons) clambered on to a diwan, from there on to a book shelf, and systematically pulled down and tore up what must have been at least 30 books. Whether my absence had set off some deep abandonment issues, or whether he was just being a complete haraami, we will never know, but I did think it was the former, at the time. So when I returned, and was told in hushed whispers by a neighbour that Yoyo had torn ‘all’ my books, I only felt anguished at his anguish, and rushed inside to greet him. The books were now a pile of shredded covers, paper, gummy spines, binding and thread, swept up and kept in the corner for me as evidence by Vijaya.

The neighbour, who followed me in with a grim expression, picked out some scraps from the heap – there was the half-chewed autograph of a well-known writer whose book I had edited. Not one of my favourites, the writer or the book, by a long chalk. I said ‘good riddance’ and laughed, much to Vijaya and my neighbour’s shock. I just asked for it all to be thrown away, much to the disappointment of my neighbour, who had followed me hoping to witness a good chastising, if not an actual inquisition and burning at the stake of Yoyo.

Vijaya the help too looked on in stunned disapproval as I hugged Yoyo. I had missed him, and I felt deeply guilty about having left him alone and about what must have gone on in his little head while I was away. I muttered sorry-sorry into his fur. This drew a massive snort from Vijaya. And as she cleared the heap of paper, she muttered sulkily: “He tore up your books and YOU are saying sorry to HIM? And what would you have done to me, if I had torn or broken something? I would have really got an earful from you.” I could only giggle helplessly at the image of her sitting amidst a heap of books that she had torn asunder.

As she tidied up, she said to the departing back of the disappointed neighbour: “Next life…I tell you, we should pray, pray hard this life, that next life we should be born as Yoyo in this Gouritai’s house. Just do what you please, and get away with it. Now that’s the life I want. Just no consequences to face, in this house, if you are a dog.” She then rounded on Snoopy, and asked him why he hadn’t stopped Yoyo from tearing the books. Snoopy, who had quite early decided that everything about Yoyo was simply to be studiously avoided, and the only way to cope with this new pest was to white-ink him out of his visual and mental space, looked back stoically. He must have been appalled at Yoyo’s book-tearing spree while it was going on, but had already developed an older person’s attitude of a kind of detached disdain to the new entrant and his shenanigans.

The Stoic

(Next instalment of Yoyo-nama on 6 July 2018)