HOW TO PLAY WITH YOUR DOG
TUG OF WAR
By
VIKRAM KARVE
There is no better stress buster, health tonic and joyful activity than playing with your dog.
Here are a few games I play with my pet girl Sherry. [Her mother is pure Doberman and father the Caravan Hound, who prowled next door]
Sherry is not a cute cuddly indoor lapdog, nor is she merely an excitable watch dog who only barks at intruders – she is a superb guard dog, strong, fast, active and ferocious, ready to attack in order to protect what she considers her territory, which includes our house and family, especially her Master – woe betide anyone who comes menacingly to close to me for her comfort, particularly approaching joggers, cyclists et al.
Whenever Sherry wants to play, she invites me to play by adopting the “playful pose” – her front legs lowered, her butt raised up in the air, her tail high up in the air wagging friendly, her eyes looking upwards invitingly into mine, her ears up alerts and her mouth is open in a "grin".
Normally I respond immediately, but sometimes if I am preoccupied and inadvertently do not notice her, Sherry will some near me, raise her paws, giving cyclic shake hands, beckon me with friendly entreating sounds, and if even that doesn’t work, she will run and get her ball [to play “fetch-the-ball], her toy bone [for the “ bone game”] or just run round and round at top speed in our garden [for the chase game] – now all these are vigorous outdoor games.
Indoors, our favourite game is “tug of war”, for it too is a spirited, energetic, rough and tough game; robust mental and physical exercise both for Sherry and me.
After a long hiatus, it is raining incessantly out here in Girinagar, so we’ve had to call off our evening walk up the hills, and Sherry is getting restless, so I suddenly command: “Pusa…Pusa…Gheun Ye…” [Now, Sherry is a Maharashtrian Doberman, and in Marathi, Pusa… Pusa means “wipe… wipe” and refers to her towel…when Sherry was a baby I would give her a bath and then say Pusa…Pusa while wiping her vigorously with her Turkish towel so she associates Pusa…Pusa with a towel or any such cloth].
Sherry rushes off delightfully and brings her towel in her mouth and offers it to me to start the tug-of-war game. A thick Turkish towel is the best tug of war toy – it is sturdy yet soft, good for her teeth and easy for me to hold, and even when the going gets rough, Sherry loves the vigorous feel of the towel rubbing against her neck, head and body.
It is a rough and tough game of strength and skill – you just don’t pull – actually it is not a tug of war, but rather a jiggle, wiggle, waggle, jerk, squirm, twist and turn, and shake of war so I do all sorts of manoeuvres, shaking, teasing, loosening and improvising; in fact Sherry thinks up numerous ways to win this tug of war.
We play in a large area without distractions, clutter or dangerous objects. Outdoors is great, but the beauty of tug of war is that it can be safely played indoors if you have a bit of space. Make sure there is room for you both to move about and that there is nothing in the way should one of you back up.
As the game of tug of war hot up, Sherry [and me too] gets highly excited, wags her tail briskly and mock growls, so I rub against her and say in her ear…baba la gurr…baba la gurr – dogs love body contact and speaking in their ears.
With experience I learnt tricks of the trade – you cannot always win by pulling alone – it is like flying kites – you have to give dheel sometimes followed by a jhatka – and then jittery shakes – the possibilities are endless.
Conventional wisdom says that the “owner” must win all the time to assert his dominance in the “pack”. But I let Sherry win sometimes. I don’t need to “establish” my place in the “hierarchy” – do you need to establish your place in the hierarchy with your daughter, or son, or wife?
A tough dog needs to bite. Biting is in a dog’s natural instinct and temperament and it is one of the best natural ways for dogs to release pent up stress and energy. It is better Sherry happily releases her pent up stress and energy on the inanimate tug of war towel than some hapless animate object, isn’t it?
Also I don’t want my Sherry to be a sissy – she must be her natural aggressive self – after all she is a top quality guard dog and I must not curb too much her natural preying instincts. That is why I simulate quite an energetic tug of war game with a lot of growling, grunting and shaking on both sides.
If things get too rough, or I am tired and want to end the game, I just softly say: “Drop it” and Sherry lets go of the towel and then I give her a tit-bit.
I love playing tug-of-war with Sherry – it is a mentally and physically stimulating game for Sherry and me and is a great form of aerobic exercise too. And it is so much fun – playing tug of war with Sherry is a most enjoyable and satisfying pastime.
Tug of War is a rough game so only I [or my son who is also a tough guy]play tug of war with Sherry – I never allow small kids near Sherry, let alone let them play tug of war with her.
As I write this on my laptop, Sherry is calling me to play tug of war, enticing me with her Pusa…Pusa towel in her mouth rubbing against my thigh, so here I go to play a vigorous bout of tug of war with Sherry.
Play a lot with your dog.
You dog will be happy and healthy - and you too!
Bow Wow!
VIKRAM KARVE
Copyright © Vikram Karve 2009
Vikram Karve has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com/
http://www.linkedin.com/in/karve
vikramkarve@sify.com
Showing posts with label doberman. Show all posts
Showing posts with label doberman. Show all posts
Friday, August 28, 2009
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Art of Living by Sherry Karve
My Friend, Philosopher and Guide Sherry Karve
SHERRY & THE ART OF LIVING
Food for Thought
By
VIKRAM KARVE
If you want to learn the Art of Living just observe the way animals live and react to situations.
Please see her picture above, fetching the morning newspaper from the compound gate for me.
As you can see Sherry is Doberman X – the “X” factor is probably a Rampur Hound or a Caravan Mudhol Hound.
Sherry behaves spontaneously, joyfully, based on her inner instinct.
She plays, she barks, she chases, she eats and she sleeps in accordance with her natural instinct.
Sherry doesn’t need to go to gym [for physical fitness] or a therapist [for mental fitness].
Sherry is not a Goal Oriented person. She is an Inner Resource Oriented person – in short, a Source Oriented person.
Conventional wisdom teaches us to become goal-oriented.
From childhood there are goals set for us to achieve, and when we achieve one goal there is always another goal waiting for us – it is an endless pursuit, a chase which never culminates.
We are taught that a goal oriented person is a person who always succeeds in life. But is there a final destination of success? Do you ever reach your final goal?
Goals are always outside you, goals are in the future, far away from you. Your goals are not in your control. If you design your lifestyle in such a way that your happiness depends on things outside you, things in the future and not in your control, then you may find happiness elusive and you may never be truly content and happy.
If you are too result-oriented – you’ll always be chasing horizons.
Remember, if you run after something it runs away from you, and, conversely, if you run away from something it runs after you – so stop running and life a more Source-Oriented life.
Look inwards, discover and harness your inner resources, act instinctively and you will realize your full creative potential.
Like Sherry, you will live spontaneously, unpredictably, act on the spur of the moment and experience the joy of the glorious uncertainties of life rather than get frustrated by them.
You will live a more stress free life too.
Have you seen wild animals suffering from stress?
Maybe some domesticated pet animals are stressed-out because we humans put stress on them by imposing our “goals” and demands on the poor hapless pets.
We have become so preoccupied with achieving success that our lives are always heading towards something in the future.
In the process, we lose touch with the aliveness and delight of the present.
Sherry does not worry about the future, about achieving future goals, but live in the present.
Sherry does not live in the past either.
She is very forgiving – even if I scold her, which I never need to do, she is back to her cheerful self in a jiffy and doesn’t hold any grudges either.
Anger is a reality.
It happens inside us. Goal Oriented behaviour may result in us suppressing our anger creating stress within us.
Here is a lesson I got one morning from Sherry in Anger Management by Source Oriented living.
Our spacious bungalow, located high up on a hill slope, affords a beautiful panoramic view of the verdant wide green expanse of Girinagar all around.
This morning while we strolled on our lawn sipping rejuvenating cups of piping hot amruttulya tea in the lovely mist and slight drizzle, I noticed Sherry standing alert at the bungalow gate looking intently, focussing on something outside, and gradually getting angry, as evident from her focussed eyes, slow growls, heightened breathing, stiff upright tail and vivid line of hair standing taut on the centre of her neck and back, hackles raised.
I walked towards the gate and looked outside – the object of her attention was a huge white cat that was walking nonchalantly towards the gate, almost defiantly.
The moment the cat came close, Sherry suddenly lost her temper, started barking, violently jumping, infuriated with anger, desperately pleading with me to open the gate.
The cat stopped dead in her tracks and crouched, and I knew that if I let Sherry out, she would desperately, frenziedly chase the cat down the hill, and if she caught the cat, there would ensue a violent fight to the finish, and most likely it would be the cat who would be finished.
So I just walked away and Sherry realized that I wasn’t going to open the gate, went so wild with rage, that she ran amok, running wildly all round the spacious compound, taking high speed runs, jumping over hedges, barking, chasing, leaping at birds, running fast at top speed round and round the bungalow, till she was totally exhausted, after which she went to her water bowl, lapped up cold soothing water, and lay down on her rug in a cosy manner, calm, tranquil, totally relaxed, her anger totally dissipated and dissolved into peaceful serenity.
That’s what one must do when angry, isn’t it? Let me tell you it works - the moment you sense anger rising within you start exercising, run, jog, take a brisk walk, dance, move your limbs, sway, do something.
Spontaneously do some physical activity till your anger dissipates and exhausts itself into a state of calm.
So, Dear Reader, the next time you start getting angry, do what Sherry does – just start running till your anger disappears and you collapse into a cosy state of peaceful calm and tranquillity.
There is a lot to learn about the “Art of Living” from our animal friends, isn’t it?
So just behave naturally, spontaneously, doing you’re your inner voice and instinct tells you, observe fauna and flora around you, and most importantly, get a pet dog and make him or her your friend, philosopher and guide.
I’ll end with a quote on dogs from Sigmund Freud:
Dogs love their friends and bite their enemies, quite unlike people, who are incapable of pure love and always have to mix love and hate in their object-relations. -Sigmund Freud
So here is a Bow Wow – and may you live a more doglike life!
VIKRAM KARVE
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
MY PET DOGS
My Canine Companions
By
VIKRAM KARVE
I remember my first pet dog Goldie, a Cocker Spaniel, who was presented to us by our neighbour in Devlali in 1961, when I was just five.
We named him Goldie because of his colour, and the tiny one month old pup remained my constant companion and loyal friend till he passed away in 1970.
Then we had Bruno, a cute cuddly Lhasa Apso, who disappeared, or maybe was stolen one day.
After that a black playful Dachshund called Sherry entered our family.
I loved Sherry so much that I have named all my subsequent dogs Sherry.
In 1982 we were presented a lovable snow-white Lhasa Apso girl as a wedding gift.
Of course we named her Sherry.
Ours was an arranged marriage and probably the only thing that was compatible was that we both loved dogs.
Today it is my favourite Doberman girl Sherry who illuminates every moment of our lives with happiness, joy and delight.
If you ask me “Why do people keep dogs?” I will ask you “Why do people have children?”
And remember, your children will grow up, and, one day, may go away from you, maybe for higher studies, or to pursue their careers, or just leave you because they want to stay separately; but your dog will never leave you and will loyally remain with you forever till death.
Of course, if you throw out your dog, or get rid of it, then it’s a different matter; but your dog won’t leave you of its own accord.
If you are thinking of getting a dog into your home, as a family member, remember you are making a commitment to that dog for its lifetime, probably even more than your own children.
And once the dog joins your family, invest your love and time to build a special bond that only a dog can offer, and you will both be happy you did.
You can take my word for it!
VIKRAM KARVE
PS: - Hey, do read about SHERRY my current pet My Darling DobermanXRampur Hound Girl
http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com/
vikramkarve@sify.com
By
VIKRAM KARVE
I remember my first pet dog Goldie, a Cocker Spaniel, who was presented to us by our neighbour in Devlali in 1961, when I was just five.
We named him Goldie because of his colour, and the tiny one month old pup remained my constant companion and loyal friend till he passed away in 1970.
Then we had Bruno, a cute cuddly Lhasa Apso, who disappeared, or maybe was stolen one day.
After that a black playful Dachshund called Sherry entered our family.
I loved Sherry so much that I have named all my subsequent dogs Sherry.
In 1982 we were presented a lovable snow-white Lhasa Apso girl as a wedding gift.
Of course we named her Sherry.
Ours was an arranged marriage and probably the only thing that was compatible was that we both loved dogs.
Today it is my favourite Doberman girl Sherry who illuminates every moment of our lives with happiness, joy and delight.
If you ask me “Why do people keep dogs?” I will ask you “Why do people have children?”
And remember, your children will grow up, and, one day, may go away from you, maybe for higher studies, or to pursue their careers, or just leave you because they want to stay separately; but your dog will never leave you and will loyally remain with you forever till death.
Of course, if you throw out your dog, or get rid of it, then it’s a different matter; but your dog won’t leave you of its own accord.
If you are thinking of getting a dog into your home, as a family member, remember you are making a commitment to that dog for its lifetime, probably even more than your own children.
And once the dog joins your family, invest your love and time to build a special bond that only a dog can offer, and you will both be happy you did.
You can take my word for it!
VIKRAM KARVE
PS: - Hey, do read about SHERRY my current pet My Darling DobermanXRampur Hound Girl
http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com/
vikramkarve@sify.com
Tuesday, June 09, 2009
How to Communicate with your Pet Dog
DOES YOUR DOG UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU ARE SAYING ?
How I Taught My Dog Sherry the Human Language
By
VIKRAM KARVE
Part 1: Donkey Language
Before I tell you how I taught my pet dog Sherry the human language here is an apocryphal story:
A wise man, a renowned teacher, once publicly vowed that he would eradicate illiteracy and teach everyone to read.
Some mischievous boys brought a donkey to the teacher and asked him if he could teach the donkey to read.
The wise teacher stunned the students by taking up the challenge and said, “Give me the donkey for a month and I will teach it to read.”
The teacher went home and began to train his donkey to read. At first he put the donkey into the stable and gave him no food for some days. Then he found a thick book and put some hay between the pages. In the beginning the teacher turned the pages and gave the donkey the hay between the pages.
After a while the donkey learnt to turn the pages with his tongue to find and eat the feed by itself. Each time when the donkey finished the book and found no more feed between the pages it would bray: “Eee aah, Eee aah!”
Three days before the one month period was over the teacher stopped feeding the donkey till the poor donkey after fasting for three days without a morsel of food was voraciously hungry.
On the fateful day when the whole school assembled to see the miracle of the donkey reading, the wise teacher brought the ravenously hungry donkey onto the stage. He asked for a big book and put it in front of the donkey.
The hungry donkey turned the first page of the book with its tongue and when it could not find any feed the donkey brayed: “Eee aah, Eee aah!” and turned one more page, and again not finding any hay it cried: “Eee aah, Eee aah!”
The famished donkey kept turning the pages of the book one by one with its tongue and when it could not find any feed between the pages its braying grew louder and louder and soon the hapless donkey was turning the pages and shrieking in a loud voice: “Eee aah, Eee aah!” till it reached a crescendo.
Proud of his achievement the wise teacher said to the gathering: “You all have seen that the donkey has turned the pages of the book and he read it.”
One of the naughty students asked: “But we could not understand anything.”
The wise teacher replied: “Of course you could not understand what the donkey read because it was donkey language. In order to understand it you have to learn donkey language. Come to me for tuition in the evening. I will teach you donkey language.”
[To be continued…]
VIKRAM KARVE
Copyright © Vikram Karve 2009
Vikram Karve has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work
vikramkarve@sify.com
http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com
http://www.linkedin.com/in/karve
http://www.ryze.com/go/karve
http://www.indiaplaza.in/finalpage.aspx?storename=books&sku=9788190690096&ct=2
http://www.flipkart.com/appetite-stroll-vikram-karve/8190690094-gw23f9mr2o
http://books.sulekha.com/book/appetite-for-a-stroll/default.htm
How I Taught My Dog Sherry the Human Language
By
VIKRAM KARVE
Part 1: Donkey Language
Before I tell you how I taught my pet dog Sherry the human language here is an apocryphal story:
A wise man, a renowned teacher, once publicly vowed that he would eradicate illiteracy and teach everyone to read.
Some mischievous boys brought a donkey to the teacher and asked him if he could teach the donkey to read.
The wise teacher stunned the students by taking up the challenge and said, “Give me the donkey for a month and I will teach it to read.”
The teacher went home and began to train his donkey to read. At first he put the donkey into the stable and gave him no food for some days. Then he found a thick book and put some hay between the pages. In the beginning the teacher turned the pages and gave the donkey the hay between the pages.
After a while the donkey learnt to turn the pages with his tongue to find and eat the feed by itself. Each time when the donkey finished the book and found no more feed between the pages it would bray: “Eee aah, Eee aah!”
Three days before the one month period was over the teacher stopped feeding the donkey till the poor donkey after fasting for three days without a morsel of food was voraciously hungry.
On the fateful day when the whole school assembled to see the miracle of the donkey reading, the wise teacher brought the ravenously hungry donkey onto the stage. He asked for a big book and put it in front of the donkey.
The hungry donkey turned the first page of the book with its tongue and when it could not find any feed the donkey brayed: “Eee aah, Eee aah!” and turned one more page, and again not finding any hay it cried: “Eee aah, Eee aah!”
The famished donkey kept turning the pages of the book one by one with its tongue and when it could not find any feed between the pages its braying grew louder and louder and soon the hapless donkey was turning the pages and shrieking in a loud voice: “Eee aah, Eee aah!” till it reached a crescendo.
Proud of his achievement the wise teacher said to the gathering: “You all have seen that the donkey has turned the pages of the book and he read it.”
One of the naughty students asked: “But we could not understand anything.”
The wise teacher replied: “Of course you could not understand what the donkey read because it was donkey language. In order to understand it you have to learn donkey language. Come to me for tuition in the evening. I will teach you donkey language.”
[To be continued…]
VIKRAM KARVE
Copyright © Vikram Karve 2009
Vikram Karve has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work
vikramkarve@sify.com
http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com
http://www.linkedin.com/in/karve
http://www.ryze.com/go/karve
http://www.indiaplaza.in/finalpage.aspx?storename=books&sku=9788190690096&ct=2
http://www.flipkart.com/appetite-stroll-vikram-karve/8190690094-gw23f9mr2o
http://books.sulekha.com/book/appetite-for-a-stroll/default.htm
Friday, April 10, 2009
Sherry says BOW WOW
Hi Friends. Bow Wow.
Have a look at my photos
http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com/blog/post/2009/04/birthday-girl-part-1.htm
You liked my photos?
By the way, I am a writer too.
Here is my first piece of writing which I wrote when I was only seven months old.
Do tell me if you liked it; and I'll post some more about my delightful life.
My name is Sherry. Sherry Karve. I am a naughty young girl, I’m over seven months old and I live with my family in a lovely spacious bungalow surrounded by plenty of greenery.
I wake up early in the morning, jump off my sofa, go to my father’s bed, rub my cold wet nose against his hand and give him a loving lick with my warm soft tongue.
He grunts and growls and opens his sleepy eyes, and the moment he sees me his face lights up and he lovingly caresses me and says, “Good Morning, Sherry.” The he gets up from bed and opens the main door to let me jump out into the garden. First I do my ‘little job’ at my favorite place near the mango tree. Then I generally dig with my paws in the soft morning mud and sniff around with my keen beautiful black nose to find out if there are any new morning smells, not forgetting to run and welcome the milkman the moment he comes on his cycle.
When I return I find that my father is back in his bed and my mother is up and about. She pats and cuddles me and goes about her business making tea in the kitchen while I loiter around the house.
She surreptitiously sneaks to the bedroom and slyly hands over a tidbit to my half-sleeping father under the blanket when she thinks I am not looking. I pretend not to notice, as I do not want to spoil their fun. Earlier, when I was small and impatient, I used to snuffle out the tidbit from my father’s hand, but this spoilt his fun and he became grumpy. Now that I am a mature young girl well experienced in the ways of the human world and I have realized that it is better to act dumb and let these humans think they are smarter than me. So I go outside, sit down and put on a look of anticipation towards the gate and pretend not to notice my mother hiding and peeping through the corner of the window and giggling to herself.
The moment the newspaperman comes on his cycle and shouts ‘paper’, I rush to the gate and fetch the newspaper in my mouth, gripping it just right between my teeth, and hold it up to my horizontal father, who gets up, takes the paper from me and gives me the dog-biscuit he’s been hiding in his hand, as my mother, who has rushed behind me, watches me with loving pride in her eyes. My brother and my sister, who till now were fast asleep in the other room, call out my name – “Sherry! Sherry!” – and as I dart between their beds wagging my tail, they both hug and cuddle me all over saying, “Good Morning, Sherry. Sherry is a good girl!” Everyone is cheerful and happy and my day has begun!
I love my family, even though they are humans; and I love my house, my surroundings, the place I stay, the life I live – but before I tell you all that, let me tell you where I came from.
My ‘birth-mother’ is a ferocious Doberman who lives in a bungalow in Kothrud in Pune and my ‘dog-father’ is unknown, though they suspect it may be the Labrador next door, or most likely the hound who lurks in the neighbourhood. For making my registration papers the vet wanted proof, so in the column against Breed he wrote ‘Doberman X’.
I was a sickly weakling, hardly a month old, the only girl, last of the litter of eleven, and the owners were wondering what to do with me. Nine of my handsome brothers had already been selected and taken away, and the owners wanted to keep the tenth, the most beautiful and healthy of them all. They had kept me all alone separated from my ferocious Doberman mother who was growling menacingly in a cage nearby. No one wanted me and I could hear people whispering how ugly and weak I was and I wondered what fate lay in store for me. It hurt to be unwanted and when I heard people talking about sending me away to a farmhouse, or ‘dispose’ me of, I felt terrified and shivered with fright as I wondered what was going to be my destiny.
One evening a few people came over and a gentle woman with kindness in her eyes looked at me, and on the spur of the moment lovingly picked me up, and the way she tenderly snuggled me I felt true love for the first time. This was my new mother. She took me securely and lovingly in her soft hands, got into a car and they all drove across Pune, past Aundh, across the river, till we reached a bungalow. The kind woman was wondering what her husband’s reaction would be. It was dark. I was scared and cuddled up snugly my mother’s arms to feel safer.
Suddenly I found a tough-looking bearded man staring at me. Shivering with fear I looked back at him in terror as he extended his hands towards me. But the moment he held me in his large cozy hands, caressed me lovingly, and put his finger tenderly in my mouth, I felt protected, loved, safe and secure.
This was my new father and he had already decided my name – Sherry – the same name of his earlier canine ‘daughter’. [By the way ‘Sherry’ means ‘beloved’ – not the wine drink you are thinking about!].
“She was destined to come here,” my mother said.
“Yes,” my father said feeding me warm milk.
They made a nice warm bed for me in a basket and put it below theirs. And as I drifted into sleep, they both fondled me with their hands. I felt so wonderful and happy for the first time in my life. I had found my true home and my family.
I am feeling quite sleepy now and I’ll end here and have a nap. If you want to know more about me, my delightfully mischievous life, and the naughty things I do, please let me know and I’ll tell you all about it!
Copyright © Vikram Karve 2009
Vikram Karve has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com
Have a look at my photos
http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com/blog/post/2009/04/birthday-girl-part-1.htm
You liked my photos?
By the way, I am a writer too.
Here is my first piece of writing which I wrote when I was only seven months old.
Do tell me if you liked it; and I'll post some more about my delightful life.
My name is Sherry. Sherry Karve. I am a naughty young girl, I’m over seven months old and I live with my family in a lovely spacious bungalow surrounded by plenty of greenery.
I wake up early in the morning, jump off my sofa, go to my father’s bed, rub my cold wet nose against his hand and give him a loving lick with my warm soft tongue.
He grunts and growls and opens his sleepy eyes, and the moment he sees me his face lights up and he lovingly caresses me and says, “Good Morning, Sherry.” The he gets up from bed and opens the main door to let me jump out into the garden. First I do my ‘little job’ at my favorite place near the mango tree. Then I generally dig with my paws in the soft morning mud and sniff around with my keen beautiful black nose to find out if there are any new morning smells, not forgetting to run and welcome the milkman the moment he comes on his cycle.
When I return I find that my father is back in his bed and my mother is up and about. She pats and cuddles me and goes about her business making tea in the kitchen while I loiter around the house.
She surreptitiously sneaks to the bedroom and slyly hands over a tidbit to my half-sleeping father under the blanket when she thinks I am not looking. I pretend not to notice, as I do not want to spoil their fun. Earlier, when I was small and impatient, I used to snuffle out the tidbit from my father’s hand, but this spoilt his fun and he became grumpy. Now that I am a mature young girl well experienced in the ways of the human world and I have realized that it is better to act dumb and let these humans think they are smarter than me. So I go outside, sit down and put on a look of anticipation towards the gate and pretend not to notice my mother hiding and peeping through the corner of the window and giggling to herself.
The moment the newspaperman comes on his cycle and shouts ‘paper’, I rush to the gate and fetch the newspaper in my mouth, gripping it just right between my teeth, and hold it up to my horizontal father, who gets up, takes the paper from me and gives me the dog-biscuit he’s been hiding in his hand, as my mother, who has rushed behind me, watches me with loving pride in her eyes. My brother and my sister, who till now were fast asleep in the other room, call out my name – “Sherry! Sherry!” – and as I dart between their beds wagging my tail, they both hug and cuddle me all over saying, “Good Morning, Sherry. Sherry is a good girl!” Everyone is cheerful and happy and my day has begun!
I love my family, even though they are humans; and I love my house, my surroundings, the place I stay, the life I live – but before I tell you all that, let me tell you where I came from.
My ‘birth-mother’ is a ferocious Doberman who lives in a bungalow in Kothrud in Pune and my ‘dog-father’ is unknown, though they suspect it may be the Labrador next door, or most likely the hound who lurks in the neighbourhood. For making my registration papers the vet wanted proof, so in the column against Breed he wrote ‘Doberman X’.
I was a sickly weakling, hardly a month old, the only girl, last of the litter of eleven, and the owners were wondering what to do with me. Nine of my handsome brothers had already been selected and taken away, and the owners wanted to keep the tenth, the most beautiful and healthy of them all. They had kept me all alone separated from my ferocious Doberman mother who was growling menacingly in a cage nearby. No one wanted me and I could hear people whispering how ugly and weak I was and I wondered what fate lay in store for me. It hurt to be unwanted and when I heard people talking about sending me away to a farmhouse, or ‘dispose’ me of, I felt terrified and shivered with fright as I wondered what was going to be my destiny.
One evening a few people came over and a gentle woman with kindness in her eyes looked at me, and on the spur of the moment lovingly picked me up, and the way she tenderly snuggled me I felt true love for the first time. This was my new mother. She took me securely and lovingly in her soft hands, got into a car and they all drove across Pune, past Aundh, across the river, till we reached a bungalow. The kind woman was wondering what her husband’s reaction would be. It was dark. I was scared and cuddled up snugly my mother’s arms to feel safer.
Suddenly I found a tough-looking bearded man staring at me. Shivering with fear I looked back at him in terror as he extended his hands towards me. But the moment he held me in his large cozy hands, caressed me lovingly, and put his finger tenderly in my mouth, I felt protected, loved, safe and secure.
This was my new father and he had already decided my name – Sherry – the same name of his earlier canine ‘daughter’. [By the way ‘Sherry’ means ‘beloved’ – not the wine drink you are thinking about!].
“She was destined to come here,” my mother said.
“Yes,” my father said feeding me warm milk.
They made a nice warm bed for me in a basket and put it below theirs. And as I drifted into sleep, they both fondled me with their hands. I felt so wonderful and happy for the first time in my life. I had found my true home and my family.
I am feeling quite sleepy now and I’ll end here and have a nap. If you want to know more about me, my delightfully mischievous life, and the naughty things I do, please let me know and I’ll tell you all about it!
Copyright © Vikram Karve 2009
Vikram Karve has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com
Thursday, December 04, 2008
CANINE PSYCHOLOGY
Canine Psychology
by
Vikram Karve
My pet Doberman girl Sherry gives me a grand rousing welcome every time I return home. She waits for me at the compound gate, and the moment she sees me, Sherry goes berserk with sheer excitement, wagging her tail vigorously round and round, jumping up at me enthusiastically, making unique welcome yelps, nudging me with her mouth and nose, and when I, overcome by a flood of love, have caressed, patted and cuddled her, she runs round and round the compound in happy joyful exhilaration and ecstatic glee.
And then as I proceed towards the house, Sherry does something unique which I have never seen any other pet dog do – she brings me a “gift”.
Yes, she comes to me carrying in her mouth a welcome gift, and drops the gift at my feet.
And do you know what this welcome gift is?
Well, sometimes it is an old bone she digs out, or maybe an old soiled rag cloth or the pair of socks she had stealthily pinched from the drying stand and hidden, buried deep in the lawn, or one of her toy “babies”, or an old shoe, or maybe just some piece of muck she has dug up, or a twig, anything – but Sherry always welcomes me home with a gift.
She does this to my wife, kids, mother, friends, maid and others she knows well and though her welcome may not be as vigorously enthusiastic as she does for me, Sherry always brings them a “gift”. [For unwanted strangers Sherry has a ferocious, rather ominous bark, and, if unheeded, and they dare to enter our compound, maybe a vicious assault followed by a memorable bite – she is a superb guard dog].
Sherry’s “gifting nature” has me perplexed. As I said I have never seen any other pet dog bringing welcome gifts.
Sherry’s fantastic welcome overwhelms me with a delightful emotion of happiness, gratitude and love that I cannot describe in words, and I always look forward to returning home to Sherry [My wife and kids do sometimes welcome me home too, but certainly not as enthusiastically, and there is never the “welcome gift” at my daily homecoming after work].
Dear Reader, have you ever seen any dogs demonstrate their happiness and affection in this way?
Please can some dog lover or canine psychologist throw some light on this “gifting behaviour” – why does my darling pet Doberman girl Sherry express her love in such an inimitably endearing manner?
VIKRAM KARVE
vikramkarve@sify.com
http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com
by
Vikram Karve
My pet Doberman girl Sherry gives me a grand rousing welcome every time I return home. She waits for me at the compound gate, and the moment she sees me, Sherry goes berserk with sheer excitement, wagging her tail vigorously round and round, jumping up at me enthusiastically, making unique welcome yelps, nudging me with her mouth and nose, and when I, overcome by a flood of love, have caressed, patted and cuddled her, she runs round and round the compound in happy joyful exhilaration and ecstatic glee.
And then as I proceed towards the house, Sherry does something unique which I have never seen any other pet dog do – she brings me a “gift”.
Yes, she comes to me carrying in her mouth a welcome gift, and drops the gift at my feet.
And do you know what this welcome gift is?
Well, sometimes it is an old bone she digs out, or maybe an old soiled rag cloth or the pair of socks she had stealthily pinched from the drying stand and hidden, buried deep in the lawn, or one of her toy “babies”, or an old shoe, or maybe just some piece of muck she has dug up, or a twig, anything – but Sherry always welcomes me home with a gift.
She does this to my wife, kids, mother, friends, maid and others she knows well and though her welcome may not be as vigorously enthusiastic as she does for me, Sherry always brings them a “gift”. [For unwanted strangers Sherry has a ferocious, rather ominous bark, and, if unheeded, and they dare to enter our compound, maybe a vicious assault followed by a memorable bite – she is a superb guard dog].
Sherry’s “gifting nature” has me perplexed. As I said I have never seen any other pet dog bringing welcome gifts.
Sherry’s fantastic welcome overwhelms me with a delightful emotion of happiness, gratitude and love that I cannot describe in words, and I always look forward to returning home to Sherry [My wife and kids do sometimes welcome me home too, but certainly not as enthusiastically, and there is never the “welcome gift” at my daily homecoming after work].
Dear Reader, have you ever seen any dogs demonstrate their happiness and affection in this way?
Please can some dog lover or canine psychologist throw some light on this “gifting behaviour” – why does my darling pet Doberman girl Sherry express her love in such an inimitably endearing manner?
VIKRAM KARVE
vikramkarve@sify.com
http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Naughty Girl
Click the link below and read Naughty Girl
http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com/blog/post/2008/07/sherry-karve-mischievous-memories.htm
Sherry
http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com/blog/post/2008/07/sherry-karve-mischievous-memories.htm
Sherry
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