Hello there!! The name’s Feni. I’m a canine, a Labrador, to be more specific.
I currently reside in a heritage, Portuguese-styled manor located on a sprawling one and a half acre property tucked in the suburbs of beaches-galore, sunny-side-up Goa. On the twenty eighth January, 2011, the world was a drastically better place, because I was born on that very same day [Funny how coincidences work, eh??].
My foster family consists of four members; mummy, daddy, Taylor and Trikaya. To give you an idea of my [not so] lavish lifestyle; let me take you through a typical day of yours truly. Here goes nothing:
I am woken up at the crack of dawn with voices grumbling [done by my adopted sisters], mumbling [that will be indulged by daddy] and persuading [dear old mummy!]. After a lot of urging, my siblings stir from their comfy duvets and begin their “getting-ready-for-school” process which includes scrubbing their teeth, tying their braids and waiting expectantly at the front porch for the driver.
After about five minutes of killing time, the driver finally shows up and bundles Taylor [the elder one] and Trikaya [the younger one] into his rickety van. Both the siblings wave at us till the vehicle rambles out of sight. My emotions, at this time, are hard to explain. You see, when the two girls leave for school every morning, I feel devastated because, all said and done, I really love those kids. On the other hand, I also feel pleased, because their constant chatter and futile attempts to get me to “run-a-bit-of-that-fat-off” [as they unkindly put it] really gets me slapping my head in frustration.
Moving on, as soon as the bus disappears behind the thickets, mummy trudges inside and beckons for me to follow. I oblige by prancing off the steps and darting next to her. She pats my head and murmurs something that’s inaudible to my ears [however sensitive they might be].
Mummy ushers me inside and shuts the heavy teak front door. I lick her right foot as if to say, ‘You dealt with that situation well, mummy. Kudos to you!’ She smiles at me like as if she understands, but I know she didn’t. I’m smart enough to know that when I try to say something to her [or any human, for that matter], it comes out as a weird, croak-of-a-bark. That’s not at all how I hear it, but maybe human ears are made with different stuff, you know?? Like salt… Nah, just kidding.
Anyway, I curl up in my special bed and snooze for a few more hours. If I don’t get my eight hours of beauty sleep every night, my face gets all wrinkly like Grandma Patricia [no, she not my foster grandmother. She’s myreal paternal, doggie grandma] and, believe me, you don’t want your dog to sport that look. *SHUDDER!!*
In a couple hundred minutes, mummy wakes up for the second time that day. Only difference is, this time she’s waking up for good. I faithfully follow mum around the house. The maids have arrived half-an-hour ago, and mummy takes her daily inspection tour of the house. After she’s satisfied about the Chinese figurines being dusted well, she scoops some bread and milk and serves it to me for breakfast. I gulp it down before you could say ‘Madagascar!’
Mum plonks around the table and feasts on her breakfast, mostly consisting of some Indian delicacy and a mug of chai. I throw myself on top of her feet and rest for a little while more, squeezing naps out of every second like nobody’s business. Eventually, mum straightens herself, indicating to me to vacate her feet.
The next few hours are spent lying around in some nook or the other. In my defence, I’m not a lazy dog. I just have a few sleep-related issues, no biggie.
At around two o’clock, my sisters arrive from a tiring day at George Bush Elementary. I recognise the driver honking away to glory, and scamper to the front of the house to greet them. Upon seeing me, they screech “FENI!!” at the top of their lungs and fuss over me like we hadn’t seen each other for a few decades. To tell you the truth, I kind of like all the attention, but maybe they over-do it a few times…
In the evening, the sisters head off for their karate class. I bid them good-bye and settle down on the front porch itself for a few hours of shut-eye [what can I say?? This sleeping thing gets addictive!!]. They’re back in a bit, and narrate all the incidents that took place to mummy. Mummy listens to their tales while preparing dinner for the whole family [boy, experience tells me that being a good mummy sure isn’t a piece of cake!!]. Sometimes grandma Kelsey and Grandpa Joe drop in for a visit, and mummy has to make even more food. I try to help relieve her strain [though she seems perfectly happy cooking meals for her loved ones] by flashing motivating smiles at her periodically, and I think it helps, because she bursts into fits of laughter. Even though it’s a bit mean to laugh when someone is trying so hard to please you, if it’s a stress-buster for mummy, I’m okay.
When the moon hangs solemnly over the rooftops and owls hoot themselves hoarse, mummy patiently tucks her two children into bed. I faithfully tag along behind mummy wherever she roams for the rest of the night.
I’m guessing you know what comes next. My favourite part of the day; night, the only time I get to rest in the span of a whole twenty-four hours [what can I do?? I can’t even tell mummy to reduce my workload, she just wouldn’t understand!!! Literally]. I wearily crawl into my crib and say a silent prayer for my kin. I guess I haven’t actually stressed on how important daddy’s role is in maintaining family order. I mean, he works so hard and is ready to sacrifice anything for his three daughters [namely Taylor, Trikaya and ME!!!] and has a permanent smile plastered on his face.
I would like to end this narration with a short note: Thank you, the Almighty, for blessing me with the most wonderful family there ever was. Sorry [typo alert!], make that: Thank you, the Almighty, for blessing my family with the most wonderful dog there ever was.
Over and Out