Going to the dogs

Parukkutty, if you remember, doesn't read the news papers. Slowly but steadily she found herself being ex-communicated from adult company. Dinner discussions always revolved around politics or sports. Everyone would try to beat the other in the number of articles they could quote from and in the number of statistics they could spout. Parukkutty felt sick of it all. Parukkutty told herself that she was not the kind of person who did something just because other people did; she wouldn't do something merely for the sake of impressing a few people who had nothing better to do but keep track of what other people were doing. Now, of course, you and I know that she was simply finding excuses.

Naturally, she started gravitating more and more towards the under-5 category. She was in her element when it came to Tom & Jerry. She knew the names of all of Donald Duck's nephews. Not only did she not mind watching Lion King for the millionth time; she guffawed through it. She probably was the only adult who didn't think Shrek was such a big deal. So she decided that the child was indeed the father of the man. And so, she found her place among the terrible-two's, horrible-three's and dreadful-four's. Until, mind you, until, that black day when unleashed upon the unwary cartoon lover was Pokemon!

Parukkutty pressed Pause on her life and took stock. The kids seemed to be ignoring her. When did this start happening? They seemed to be talking in tongues too. Dreadful-four asked Parukkutty in a very authoritative manner "Paru auntie, Pikachoo here needs a new weapon. Can you make one for him?" How they laughed when she brought forth a clumsy contraption made of some loose broom sticks (you know from those brooms made out of coconut leaf ribs). She thought she heard words like laser gun and electricity amidst the cacophony. Terrible-two lisped "Paaranthee Paaranthee, digimon poked me." "Eh! Till yesterday he was called 'Jomon'". The discussion turned to Electrabel, and Parukkutty felt the last straw in her sea of social existence slipping away. She rushed to google for help. But it seemed even more complicated than keeping track of Who was Who in Which group of the Kerala Congress and since When. Did you know that even Wikipedia has a section called Wikimon dedicated to these 'mon'sters?

Parukkutty sat with her head in her hands - her social life was going to the dogs. Going to the dogs? Hey! But why not? That seemed to be the only option left. She decided to take a pet dog in spite of all her misgivings in that quarter. She did not think much of the canine breed in their capacity as mates - sitting on laps and distributing their hair everywhere like election leaflets; eating cookies off the guests' plates and subsequently licking their faces; sleeping on freshly laundered white bed sheets, and other such "What's the world coming to?" proceedings.

But human beings have this un-overcome-able urge to communicate and the next morning found her at the door of her neighbour, an old lady whose bitch had just delivered a litter. She was duly introduced to Cleopatra, a crumpled-looking black girl pup. Cleopatra erupted in a volley of welcoming coughs and sneezes and Parukkutty politely scratched her neck. Formalities complete, they were pronounced mistress and dog.

But, as they say, once bitten, twice shy. Parukkutty knows that the day is not too far when even this loyal companion of hers will grow out of its blissful state of ignorance and betray her. She has noted down the co-ordinates of a few trees in the park to befriend, for those ugly times to come. Information Age, she muses, is way colder than the Ice Age.

- Aval