Till ‘Tiger’ arrived on the scene my wife would just march across the road to her sister’s house and enter without even knocking on the door. Not that there was no dog before. My wife (and I too) had kind of got used to their Alsatian ‘Blackie’ – but this ferocious Doberman was something else. Now our meetings depended on Tiger’s moods! We often stood at their gate, pressing the call bell incessantly; we dared not enter – just in case Tiger was loose. We had heard that he went straight for the jugular! Our relatives’ lives - and those of their guests - now centred around Tiger; had he been for a walk, had he eaten enough, had he had a bath, had he taken his ‘shots’, and was he locked up? In due course Tiger started ‘recognising’ us, but I doubt that we ever felt ‘comfortable’ when he was unleashed.
Speaking of dogs, the morning walk brings out the best…and the worst…in them, and their masters (or mistresses). The Jahanpanah City forest, where I would go for my morning walk, witnessed many a dog being walked by its master – or rather, many dogs walking their masters. Most of the time we would ‘recognise’ the owners from their dogs! There was this good colonel who would come with two little Tibetan Apsos. On his way in the poor chap would be dragging the little devils and on return they would be pulling him back home, often at a trot. An NRI pair (father and son) had once come with their ‘Whisky’ (again a Doberman with the typical butt tail) – a dig no less ferocious than my sali-sahiba’s ‘Tiger’. All the other walkers had their hearts in their mouths till they were well clear of that ‘threesome’. Since they were NRIs (exalted status then - and Kabulis at that) you couldn’t even argue with them. The king of them all was this huge Great Dane that came out with two attendants. Built as big as a donkey – and grey coloured too - this one was always muzzled and held on an extra-strong short leash by an athletic-looking guy. The second chap walked along holding a big ‘danda’. Despite the leash this ‘chap’ walked with a majestic gait; he clearly knew his power and the awe that he struck around him.
The ‘escort party’ was thoughtful enough to avoid the main track, stopping almost 100 yards from any stray passersby. This one always kept my pulse racing. I was told the only dogs bigger - but infinitely kinder - than the Great Danes are the St. Bernards (which are mostly used in snow-clad mountains for rescue operations especially during avalanches).
We also had the yuppie couple, which was forever training their young dog. The little fellow would be methodically trained every day. The couple would always pay serious attention to any ‘expert’ offering advice on how to bring of dogs. Then, there was this south Indian Brigadier and his Belgian Shepherd. I asked him the difference between a German and a Belgian Shepherd and was enlightened that the difference was in the curl in the tail – parabolic for those from the fatherland and hyperbolic for the Belgique! There were others too: a Golden Retriever with a Maharashtrian family, a Labrador and his Bengali bureaucrat, a pair of Lhasas always running in front of an Export tycoon, and a Bulldog and his rustic Jaat master. There was only one person whose pet was never noticed – despite it being a cute Pekinese. Simply because her mistress was noticed more! This ‘wofa’ (whiff of fresh air) was a petite charmer, always elegantly dressed and walking with a spring in her gait. The poor pet probably suffered a terrible inferiority complex!
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