Thomas and Abby

Thomas and Abby and their two sons Jack and Jignesh live on the corner. They are an atypical canine Indian family— aka they don’t bare their teeth, are only semi-mangey looking, and like to… ooh ooh… lick my hands! I call them the perfect suburban American family. This is their recent life story.

Back in the day, say early 2009, Thomas wandered the Bhujie streets, sniffing at cow poop, occasionally taking a nibble here and there. It was a hard doggy life for him. Fleas littered his golden brown fur, he faced dangerous confrontations with territorial gangs, and his frequent battle wounds caused an ever present limp. But he knew his doggy instincts well; in fact they governed his behavior and put a devilishly handsome smile on his cute little snout as he sought out a mate.

Then, one day, he spotted her. Sleeping on the stoop of the corner pharmacy. Abby had a beautiful grey and black coat and kind features. She was petit yet deep down a fierce fighter. Their courtship was short. She was bored. I mean, what’s there really to do round here? she asked herself. Might as well.

 (that's Thomas!)

And so Thomas and Abby came together. Days of bliss would follow: lounging in the dirt, chasing rickshaws, and eating plastic bags. Abby’s adopted pharmacy family also took to Thomas as well, how could they not? They were a cute couple. At night they slept together on the pharmacy stoop.

The days of summer dragged on and then one morning Abby started making guttural throat noises. Was this a cause for alarm? Should we take her to doggy hospital?! Thomas, ever the logical, though to himself, is this really any different from all the other throat noises each and every Indian morning? Or could it be just another countless plastic bag coming back out? No! Abby had morning queasiness… babies were a-coming!

(and Abby!)

A cause for celebration! The pharmacy family dumped their leftover chapattis and potatoes on the manhole cover for a feast. Thomas’s smile was radiant, Abby hormonal but with spirit abound! Her nipples began to swell and show, not unlike every other single doggy in the vicinity. At night the pharmacy family let them sleep inside the pharmacy.

At the same time, just down the street, trouble was a-brewing. The gang who ruled the streets of Nootan Society had had some births of their own. Their numbers had grown to six. Spotted, dark in color, and lanky, the pack resembled jackals more than their friendlier, domestic cousins. Indeed, they were jackals. And their territory was ever-widening; their patrols more frequent. And it was on a cool autumn day that the two bands finally clashed.

Imagine, from a bird’s eye view.  It was Thomas alone versus six. Defending his corner like a coke dealer in West Baltimore (oh Wire how I miss thee)—they surrounded him, each moving in to test him, then backing out. They lunged forward, ready to take him down. But then, he took to the offensive! Snarling and barking, he fought hard. There was blood. But by the end, the others were gone, and Thomas remained. Victorious. His physical wounds would take weeks to heal, but on the inside he was beaming.

(defending the corner)

Days later, Abby gave birth to four puppies in the pharmacy. Their corner successfully defended, the puppies ran amok in the street and dirt. But these were hard times for Thomas. With a limp and visibly slowed, jobs were hard to come by. Food difficult to obtain. The family got by on scraps. The puppies remained lean.

This is when I came to know the family. Walking by everyday I took stock of the new pups. The first couple weeks there were four, and they grew. But by the third and fourth weeks, they were down to two. Alas, it was the reality on their little corner, nay, in all India! Untoward scooter drivers, disease, and jackal attacks had whittled her litter in half. It was a sad time.

But Jack and Jignesh grew and grew. And Thomas and Abby maintained their corner. Thomas' wounds healed and he found new work. Life improved. As I visited them everyday on my walk home, they would perk up from their makeshift dirt beds, tails wagging. I realized I had become one of the pack.

(just look at that smile!)

Thomas, Abby, and I started making weekly raids on the jackal pack that ruled my neighborhood. Waiting til nightfall, I would arrive home from work and they would flank me, on a steady gallop towards the bridge which separated the territory. Now we were on the offensive! 3 versus 6, but we had the upper hand. Many battles were fought and we always came out victorious. Me, with rock in hand, barking. Thomas and Abby, a coordinated attack. The jackals stand no chance.

And now we rule the street and the corner. Ah what a fine doggy life it is. On a recent trip down the street I became aware that Thomas and Abby no longer share the same pharmacy porch... he's been kicked across the street to the bank stoop. Turns out his snoring was just too much for Abby. Jignesh and Jack are asleep under the car, shaded from the midday heat. They spot me and jump over, licking my hands, nipping at my shirt. Ah life is good.