I was most nervous about my Dad meeting Snickers, for fear that he would consider him a distraction to university. In stark contrast to his every-day cheeky nature, Snickers behaved extra well with my dad, perhaps sensing the alpha-male of the family. I knew I was safe when I woke one morning to find my dad sitting with Snickers and affectionately calling him “chota sa baba” (little one).
When I called my own Nani (grandmother) in India, her response was, “Woh kaala hain?” (He’s black in color?). It seemed that the Indian obsession with fairness did not spare pets. I suppressed a giggle as I confirmed I had chosen a “dark” dog.
Being raised a Westernized dog, there came a real desi culture-shock when I moved back home two years ago. Snickers and I were now living in a joint family home. He loved it, and I hated it. I fought hard to maintain his daily discipline. I quoted dog-training books and puppy personality theories, but to no avail. The older Indian generation didn’t believe in such ‘bukwaas‘ (nonsense). They operated solely on the traditional “food is love” concept, spoiling him as if he were a little prince and not a dog.
In addition to my parents and aunt, our family unit also consists of live-in house help: a gracious man who has been with the family for generations, and considers his cooking to be a testament to his very soul. If you don’t eat his delicious oily desi food, he takes it as a personal insult. The idea that dogs shouldn’t be eating human food was lost on him.
When I visited my British vet who urged me to control his diet, I sheepishly admitted this was difficult because there were several people at home who held different opinions on his diet. He gave me a judging look and said “It’s quite simple. Just tell everyone what he can and can’t eat.” Sigh. I’d like to see him last one week in my home.
As for me, I eventually gave up trying to convince them of what I thought was the “right way” because it simply took too much energy, and was too difficult to change their mindsets. I guess you really can’t teach an old dog new tricks. I’ve experienced my first taste of joint family life and all I can say is that I have immense respect for mothers who raise their children in the same home as grandparents.
Knowing that what I have experienced is only a fraction compared to the responsibility of raising a child, I anticipate it with equal levels of fear and excitement.
In the meantime, I am more than content with my little Snickers. After all, one can only dream of a kid who is completely ignorant of all your faults, and overjoyed to see you even if you only stepped out to throw the garbage.
