Living the man's life

Bow-wow! Hi, I'm Tommy! You must've seen me eating a biscuit or two from the packet that you throw out of the window. Yes, I am the same dog, you may not be knowing me but I do - three of my generations have been living in your neighbourhood.

My grandfather doggie had once told me that when you were a child, you would always feed him a biscuit or two. You would even bring him home and put him in a tubful of warm water. You would do that despite knowing that you would be scolded by your mother.

I am told you were eight when my grandfather died of poisoning. A municipal officer had poisoned him as a part of the stray-dog elimination drive. You had cried your eyes red that day.

You would pull my father doggie's tail or pelt stones at him. You were a nuisance then to the entire neighbourhood. You had once even hurt my father. He was bleeding profusely in the neck when you ran behind him hitting him with a stick to drive him away.


My father doggie died last fortnight - you walked past him with disgust on your face and managed the janitors to clean up the entire area.

Now, I am locked in this van and being taken to the dog pound. You called the local authorities regarding the nuisance of stray animals.


You often use the phrase ' a dog's life' to express a pitiful situation.Then you say you never want to live a dog's life.

Tell you something... If the 'man's life' means changing from innocence to dry ruthlessness, I never want to live a man's life either...

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