dogs

I’ve passed the same puppy several times now. The first time I noticed the incongruity of this cute but big, round, fluffy black and white puppy, sucking on the tit of a yellow skinny teenage Mom dog. I wondered what the Dad looked like and marveled at the Mom/pup size similarity. It reminded me of the time camping that I was having a conversation with this woman while she was breastfeeding her child. He must’ve been at least 4, grabbing at her tits saying “milk Mommy, milk Mommy”, his legs almost touching the ground.

The next time I passed the doggies, the puppy was kind of chasing the Mom and she seemed less than willing to keep the feeding going. The time after that the puppy was alone on the road, adorable and friendly, but I’m not yet ready to enter into a relationship with an Indian dog. I’d been thinking they were just semi-starving, mangy, unloved creatures, but at one ashram they’re totally pets. Other than that I haven’t seen a lot of human/dog play. But the dogs at this ashram are as fat as if they were American and when I was sitting outside yesterday a big old one came and just sat quietly right next to me.

I’m starting to recognize other neighborhood dogs and learn their personalities, which gives me much to wonder about. Why do untrained, unneutered dogs stick so close to home here when many American dogs threaten to run away wily nily if they aren’t otherwise instructed. I’m fascinated at how even dog behavior is cultural. I’m still suffering with the cultural distinctions in body function. Why is it that Indian food always makes my nose run and doesn’t affect anyone else that way? I hate pulling out a kleenex, blowing my nose in it and sticking it back in a pocket. I think it’s equivalently gross to an Indian as the spitting and hocking up is to us. Though I suspect they are both more tolerant and less judgmental. But I could be wrong. As my friend Kaushil would say – not confirmed.

Today he and I went to the jungle and after some chai at a very small village, we walked up these old steps cut into a steep hill to a very old, rustic mountaintop temple. The village dog walked right beside us, quietly and politely, all the way up. She found a perfect spot on a corner of the temple grounds with the wind blowing directly in her face. She stayed there until we were ready to go and accompanied us down again.

On the way back to the ashram, the Mom and puppy were in there usual spots, but separated by several feet. The puppy is getting skinny now.