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Monday, October 02, 2006
Bathe the Dog
Sonia Faleiro has a hilarious post titled "Bathing Zoey," which is, as you've surely guessed by now, about bathing her dog. Zoey is the only dog that has ever shown an inclination to spend time on my lap -- even humans recoil from the prospect -- and for that reason, I have a special affection for the child. It's got loads of attitude: it does say things like "Dream on sistah" and "Seeya in Hell," as Sonia describes it. And in this instance, I entirely sympathise with Zoey.
Look, even I hated bathing as a kid. I had so many tricks to avoid bathing that I've forgotten them all, and I lived in particular horror of the shampoo. My eyes would fill up, it would go inside my ear, my soul would get all choked up, and I entirely ascribe my adult fatalism to the childhood shampoo. Already a budding writer at six, I even decided to write a short story about my fear of shampoo, before discovering that there was a film called Shampoo. "It's not just me," I consoled myself, "other people hate it too."
I eventually came to terms with hygiene, though not before setting a record in my hostel in Fergusson College, Pune for the highest number of days without a bath. (I will not specify how many, but at least two Sundays went by.) But that wasn't fear, just a combination of laziness and attitude. "I bet Kurt Cobain doesn't bathe," I once told a friend. When Cobain killed himself, that friend duly told me, "The bastard's dead. May I give you a soap now, please?"
Nah, I exaggerate. And whatever I may have been like, I'm squeaky clean now, and the only complaint my friends have is that I squeak too much. Zoey has no such problems, and much as I am fond of her charming parents, as it were, I shall stand by the doggie.
PS. Let me point out that Zoey is still very young. As she grows older, and notices that pups exist in the neighbourhood, she will no doubt take more care of her appearance. She shall herself bound to the bathroom and yelp, "Come here ya lazy thing, and show me where you've hidden yer mascara. I godda pardy tonight!"
That's da dog!
Look, even I hated bathing as a kid. I had so many tricks to avoid bathing that I've forgotten them all, and I lived in particular horror of the shampoo. My eyes would fill up, it would go inside my ear, my soul would get all choked up, and I entirely ascribe my adult fatalism to the childhood shampoo. Already a budding writer at six, I even decided to write a short story about my fear of shampoo, before discovering that there was a film called Shampoo. "It's not just me," I consoled myself, "other people hate it too."
I eventually came to terms with hygiene, though not before setting a record in my hostel in Fergusson College, Pune for the highest number of days without a bath. (I will not specify how many, but at least two Sundays went by.) But that wasn't fear, just a combination of laziness and attitude. "I bet Kurt Cobain doesn't bathe," I once told a friend. When Cobain killed himself, that friend duly told me, "The bastard's dead. May I give you a soap now, please?"
Nah, I exaggerate. And whatever I may have been like, I'm squeaky clean now, and the only complaint my friends have is that I squeak too much. Zoey has no such problems, and much as I am fond of her charming parents, as it were, I shall stand by the doggie.
PS. Let me point out that Zoey is still very young. As she grows older, and notices that pups exist in the neighbourhood, she will no doubt take more care of her appearance. She shall herself bound to the bathroom and yelp, "Come here ya lazy thing, and show me where you've hidden yer mascara. I godda pardy tonight!"
That's da dog!
