My father once told me an interesting story from his childhood. When he was small, around 6 to 7 years he felt deeply in love with the concept of adopting a pet. This love for pets was influenced from his neighbor Ricky who had a Doberman puppy.

In the evenings, at times when my father had no one to play with, he would find himself lonely resting his elbow against the pillow on balcony and watched Ricky play with his dog. In the end he would join them too and his life felt abundant.

Now, my desperate father couldn’t resist the idea of having a pet so he pushed his mother to give him the money. Of course, the first thing my grandmother asked beaming her eyes was “Would you clean his poo and loo!? Remember, you must take his entire responsibility.”

And my father, who was infatuated with the idea, felt offended with the question and with his sharp angry eyebrows “Ma! That’s not what dogs only do!!” In reality, she was being practical but, all sorts of love are blind and irrational.

Finally they had a pet. Back around in 1970s he bought a dog for Rs.25. And what a day it was. Having a puppy on his shoulder, he felt complete. He would take him out to play and yes ! Cleaning poo and loo didn’t feel that bad after all.

But, in a couple of months he got tired of that. The dog would poop when my father would sit for lunch. And that’s what not only happened once but, every fucking time. It felt as if seeing my father sitting for lunch triggered the dog’s excretory bowels.

And wait there were other things too! Bathing the dog, vaccinating him, broken sleeps due to dog’s barks and tolerating my grand-grandfather’s hatred for pets. Also, the pet couldn’t be left alone in the house, so he had to stay with the dog when family would go for an outing. And nobody would take his responsibility since; every other member in house was opposed to idea of adopting a dog.

After 5 months of dog-chore, he finally became tired and his ego couldn’t hold up. Finally, he gave in and started ways to escape the dog chores by bathing him once every couple days instead of every day.

The dog’s hygiene if not maintained pisses off all the members in the house.

One day, Ricky was talking to him about buying a new mate for his dog. So, my father jumped instantly on the opportunity and told him he can keep his Doberman instead.

Why it is not what it feels to be
That’s ewww but, thats cute IMG credits


It was a win-win situation for both of them. Ricky got a dog for free and my father got rid of the daily dog-chores.

After this story ended my father told me “We often get blinded by the imagination of having things that seemed to be so beautiful. But, the real pain of it is in the details. We just have to be sure if it is all worth all that pain and then go for it.”

He was right. When we look all over the internet the pictures of people having relationships hugging, kissing and sleeping under a common blanket we want something should similar happen to us.

But, we forget the small details- nagging, jealousy and arguments. The questions “Why?..Where?…What!?…Who?” shit on your face. We forget that commitment becomes an effort with time and you have to bear all the shit the other person throws at you. And if you doubt me ask your friend who is in a relationship or marriage…it’s a mental fatigue. Similar, to cleaning dog’s poo.

We imagine the rich to be beautiful. We want to be like them. But, we forget the small details. They are depressed because they can’t sleep peacefully at night; hypertension, diabetes and other disorders hover around to kill them. Their spoiled brats determined to burn up their father’s wealth through drugs and dopamine shots, are very common.

And where is the time? You look into the mirror one day, and you find your first white hair. You have burnt all of the youth running behind and caressing money.


“It’s not wrong to buy a dog, fall in love and become rich. It’s good to fall in love with an idea. But, before you do so make sure it’s worth all the pain. After all know that rose looks beautiful but, if you get hold of it, the thorns will definitely prick blood from your fingers.”

Subscribe to Blog via email

Enter your email address if you want to get notified as soon as new post is published.