A red-plumpy tomato would always send Bozo in a mad tizzy. So, besotted was he to the by edible fruit, that he would literally beg, plead and snarl for the same. One of the favorite sports, we had at home was to hold a tomato high up in the air, say some 5-6 feet or so. And yet, the little ball of fluff would repeatedly keep jumping at the same, till he finally sunk his teeth into it. There never was a greater lover of the Spanish-discovered fruit than Bozo was. Ironically, when I had chosen him from a litter of 6, it was for the very opposite reasons.

Back in ’93, when I had first seen him, he was a shy, nervous week-old snow-white Pomeranian pup. Unlike, his brothers and sisters, he was not the excited kinds, and preferred to sit in the shadows away from the gaze. So, while the rest of pups crowded and circled me, he just kept away, as if he was some big-shot intellectual, who disliked such inanities. It was this strange quirk in him, that made me pick him. And so, Bozo became an integral part of the boisterous Chaturvedi clan.

Years, passed and the little fluff grew into a big man. Even though he was a pom, he always seemed like an overgrown rabbit to me, especially due to his big big ears. He was very amiable and very patient. In fact, his patience was severely tested at times, living in a house with four children of varying age, from the eldest me (17 years) to the little brother Shlok (2 years), Bozo would always be cuddled, kissed and thrown around by all of us. In fact, one of the weird things was that he hated to be kissed. He disliked it so much that you had to actually ensnare him into it.

Of the many quirks the wonderful guy had, was his strange knack of always picking up the wrong guys. In our neighbourhood, there used to be a couple of giants, a few Alsatians and two towering Afghan Hounds. Bozo, on encountering them, would always challenge them to a big fight. He would continuously bark out at them, probably calling something to their mothers-or-sisters because it used to really infuriate them. Even so, my puny little Hercules wouldn’t stop. I think, he almost forgot that he was pom or probably didn’t care. I am still much thankful to those minders who kept the leash tight. It is because of them that our lives weren’t accidentally shortened.

Bozo, also happened to be the best friend I ever had. For a young man reaching his puberty, he was a blessing. Every night, when I used to take him for those long long walks, I used to talk my heart out to him, of all my crushes, the lost chances, the friends, the enemies, the ambitions, the visions. I would keep on rambling to him. And, he would often peer at me deeply, as if understanding everything. In fact, I am sure, I caught him nodding at times, shaking his head in disbelief at the trivialities. And then at times, he would make those strange mellow grunts, letting me know that it was alright. Reassuring me that “this too shall pass away”.  There was never a hindrance in communicating with him, he understood me, almost like a dear friend, a dear brother. Continue reading …