Stop! Or My Mom Will Shoot

I am reminiscing all over again. And this time, it’s about Chorkie my pet, whom I couldn’t carry with me while I changed continents and changed lives. The vet said she’s so damn tiny, that she wouldn’t be able to take the stress of air travel. Yeah…that sounds outrageously funny, and the first time we heard that, we broke into mad laughter. But I couldn’t risk it anyway. So I left my pet hamster with a friend back in Bangalore. And this post here is a reminder of how wonderfully Chorkie gets along with Duke, the Basset Hound. Duke, needless to point out here, is my friend’s pet.
Before I begin, here’s a quick round of introduction. Chorkie is several months old, happy with a shiny peach coat, and happier with her extremely shady sense of hygiene. Handpicked from a pet flea market in Bangalore, I’m not quite sure of her lineage…but of course, she doesn’t give a shit to that.

Duke on the other hand, is as elegant as a Basset gets. The only son of Elvis and Freckles who have an authentic Scottish pedigree, Duke treasures a warm belly rub and a loving pat on the head. Strangely though, in spite of being a hound, Duke is a couch potato, averse to any form of challenging exercise. And in spite of being a hunter, the only things we’ve ever caught him with, are sad, crippled ants.

So here goes, a regular conversation, between Chorkie the hamster, and Duke the Basset Hound...

Chorkie (C): (Scratching her right ear with her tiny pink fingers) Hey big ears…Hey hey hey… wanted to tell you something…these imbeciles keep stuffing me with lettuce and cheese and nuts. Want a serious change of taste…need help.
Duke (D): (Huffing and puffing in true disgust) Did I tell you, you are particularly obnoxious when you cuss?

C: Oh come on. (Looking at Duke with her peachy charm)You spend a good part of your waking hours munching on a bone…not to say anything of the freshly boiled chicken. And all I get is a lettuce leaf? Jesus Rude Christ!
D: Now that’s enough! What did Ma tell you? No cussing in this house….and I mean no cussing. Oh and by the way, how dare you call Ma an imbecile?

C: Coz, simply put, she is one. Going about in a slim fit denim and a sexy bodice doesn’t make her intelligent. And Pa’s no better. Moving around this place with his air of vague Goliathian grandeur! Can you believe we are stuck for life with these people? You on your smelly blue rug, and I, in this kitschy pink cage!

D: I think it’s time I spanked you for a while so that you’d stop. Cussing makes me nauseated.
C: Aha? The well-behaved Basset…loyalty is thy motto, eh?
D: Don’t you make me angry now…you squiggly mousey thing…or I’ll snap your ears off.
C: Hey but you fat ass…you’re digressing. I need a change in diet.

D: Will speak to Ma. Let me see if she agrees…but on one condition. I need your help in getting rid of that lazy man-servant. He hardly does a thing…only that occasional dog-walk, where I do my own stuff. I mean Pa’s rather hassled.
C: Leave that to me big bro. I’ll blow hard on him when he comes to mix those bland vitamin tablets in my water.
D: Blow? Air through your mouth you mean?
C: Ah well…tell Ma to change my diet. Lettuce gives me gas.
D: I’ve had enough of this gassy, smelly hammy. You stop, or my mom will shoot.

Duke rushes out of the room to be with Ma. Too much of Chorkie makes his Basset-ego spin.