Mirchi is more than a pet, she’s family

Ididn’t want to keep a dog. Every time my child pestered me, it was easy to fob him off by saying that he needed to be just a little bit older so that he could be responsible for his own pet — and take care of it. He enthusiastically agreed and promised to be the sole caretaker of the dog. His logic was irrefutable — my husband and I had been privileged enough to grow up with pets. So our son was just telling us that it was unfair that he had to be deprived of that experience.

I didn’t have the bandwidth for another family member. I had a lot of excuses — I didn’t have help —we wouldn’t be able to do impulse holidays, for instance, or stay back in the mall to catch a movie. Dogs are pack animals — they thrive in the pack and recognise authority. That just means that the dog sees the family that he stays with as his pack. When we heard that a lady in the neighbourhood needed help with walking her dog, our son volunteered. It turned out that she had cancer, and the chemotherapy meant her immune system wasn’t as strong as it should have been.

And that was how we found ourselves with a new family member. She was a golden retriever, a very goofy looking puppy of almost five months. Suddenly we needed walks, canine shots, got to meet the excellent vet, Dr Mehdi. I found my tasks now included toilet training the youngest (use newspaper, and keep reducing the area till the pup knows where to go. Three walks a day and lots of praise for doing their business at the appropriate place helps). She found my herb garden, and I learnt that dogs like coriander, and mint! She started on my beautiful pot of ornamental chillies, ate the plant and left the beautiful orange and red chillies on the side. In honour of

She found my herb garden, and I learnt that dogs like coriander, and mint! She started on my beautiful pot of ornamental chillies, ate the plant and left the beautiful orange and red chillies on the side.

that judgment call, we named her Mirchi (meaning chilli pepper). And as simply as that, she was ours. She gets agitated if she sees a suitcase because it indicates some change. Someone’s leaving. If a family member travels out of town, she will closely shadow whoever is at home; if I’m in the kitchen, she’s stretched out sleeping right behind me. Ditto the garden if you want to check out the rocca patch, or the single watermelon that has grown like a gift after six years of trying to grow fruit in Dubai. Come out of the shower and try not to trip over the dog as she curls up on the bath mat.

If you have to step out of the house, leave the radio — and television — on. Preferably animal videos. She used to sit with the boys and watch Top Gear.

A heavy day at the office, or an important meeting gone south, and my husband would find that the family member that fusses over him the most, is the dog. What uncanny instinct is it that tells her to draw and divert the attention of one of her humans?

We can’t imagine not having a pet at home — I now wish I had stretched myself earlier. Many people had warned us that the kids don’t follow through on the promise of looking after the family pet. I’m happy to report that ours does. Mirchi is clearly his dog, and he looks after her, including bathing her, and clipping her nails — something I’m not too comfortable doing. These days, she’s helping him as he preps for his exams — just by being there.

I’m utterly confused when I hear of people who abandon their pets when they need to go on a holiday. Would you leave a family member — one who loves you unconditionally — behind? What does that teach children about humanity, and moral responsibility, and kindness?

— harveena@khaleejtimes.com