Building dog

Our building has been adopted by a group of stray dogs. They are mild and well-mannered so long as we don't go about making undue demands about rent.

One is a young bitch who is openly polyandrous which would be scandalous in any other society, but we are an open and tolerant people. The other is a white long-legged dog, with a long gentle face. He looks philosophical and kind, though he goes by the misnomer Tiger. Once in a way, he surprises himself by letting out a startling loud bark which scares him more than the children around. The bitch and the philosopher are often seen in deep conversation about the state of the world and the difficulty in getting good food these days.

There’s a mysterious black dog who sends Tiger into hiding with a look. He makes an appearance at auspicious times and goes off to newer pastures.

Last year, the bitch revealed her sense of justice and fair play by giving birth to one black and one white pup. The building kids delved deep into their imagination and thought up suitable non-controversial names - Blackie and Whitie.

They insisted on taking care of the two pups since the mother was often away at work. With great luck and good fortune, the pups survived their ministrations and turned out tail-wagging healthy.

One day, the puppies disappeared. Rumours abounded, tempers ran high. The children decided that a much-hated pot-bellied watchman. They were sure he had thrown the pups from a height and let them die.

The youngest among them insisted he had poisoned them because they messed the parking lot for which the watchman got blamed. To which some kids insisted that the watchman couldn’t have been blamed for the ablutionary habits of the dogs. Surely, there’s a difference between human waste and dog waste?

The watchman turned out to be a gentler soul than the children portrayed. He had waited for the pups to grow independent and then transferred them to a nearby jogger’s park so that they could complete their research on shoes. This information came up when one of the children insisted that they talk to the watchman.

This year, again, there's much hue and cry in the building garden. Two more pups have been born. Food is being pilfered from homes to feed the poor mother who has grown so thin. Milk is disappearing from vessels as are some plastic cups. The mother is being nursed back to good health so that she can go off to look for food while the pups are cared for by the young caretakers.

This year, though, the philosopher has fallen out of favour. Both pups are black.

The children congregated right next to the tired mother and after much raucous consensus, agreed on the names - Blackie 1 and Blackie 2.