A month with Indy


Time flies.

It’s practically been a month that Yani and I share our live with our canine boy, Indy. Gone are the days when we could have our dinner without the whinings and the “au-waaahh” sounds in the back porch. Our living room also has traces of his presence: a half-chewed rubber chicken without the squeaky whistle – one leg missing already, a gnawed-up nylon bone with a marrow-flavoured centre, and mysterious bits and pieces from various toys that he had managed to disect.  He has been very good with our shoes and furnitures though. He gets cheeky sometimes by carrying one of my sandals from one spot to the other, but at least they are all intact. We are also slowly teaching him not to go into our bedroom and jump on the bed – it’s a no-go zone and so is the spare bedroom with a mountain of to-be ironed clothes. 🙂

I wouldn’t trade the month with anything – the sound of him snoring outside my study makes me warm inside as I spend some late hours working with my research data or trying to string up some words coherently for my thesis. I also love the fact that he always greets me enthusiastically, rushing around the house frantically, with a toy in his mouth – whether I’m only out for ten minutes or for a whole day.

I also love his smile after we walk around the block together – I try to take different routes when we walk together. Some things don’t change though: he would cower as we pass South Road, whenever there’s a big truck or bus passing by. He would rush around in the grassy area in Tennyson Avenue, always depositing his ‘gift’ in a similar spot. As I mentioned in my previous post, I have also discovered Indy’s intense dislike for cats. It’s good that I normally hold on to the leash very tightly whenever we do our walk – my left arm has gained a lot of strength just trying to keep him under control. 🙂

Walking with him has also given me an insight of Indy’s arch nemesis – the black labrador cross who lives in the corner of Kimber Terrace and Clifford Avenue.

The dog always barks whenever anybody passes the property, so when I bring Indy along for a walk, I also expects the dog to give Indy his territorial barks. What I didn’t expect was Indy’s intense dislike of him. Even though we were still a couple of houses away from the spot, Indy would tug me to walk faster. Sure enough, the dog would bark away like mad and then just like clockwork, Indy would drag me across the street so he could show the same aggression to the dog. We already had a close skirmish once, when the black dog was jumping and barking like crazy and in one of its jumping attempt, he managed to reach the fence and with his fore legs dangling outside, he jumped out. He came around and circled us and gave Indy a couple of sniff – he was still quite hostile. I lifted Indy and gave a gentle kick to get the dog away and walked a distance before I set him on the ground again. Thank goodness the black dog didn’t follow us. Nowadays, I exert greater authority when we pass the house and walk some distance away – just to avoid any worse confrontation.

Having lived with him for a month, I also find out that Indy has sensitive skin – just like me. I don’t know what he’s allergic too but he loves scratching his ears and chewing his paws. I’m in the process of changing his diet and also giving some unscented QV lotion that I use myself, on his ears. Like “father” like “son” – we both have sensitive skin. Haha.

"Can I please bite him, Dad? Can I? Can I?"

Despite his antics and his habits, the “gifts” that he bestow in the backyard, I love him to bits. (I think Yani does too, although she’s less expressive in showing it *laugh*). Indy’s my kinda dog – a little sooky but with a big heart full of love. Just today I bought him a new squeaky chicken toy – just trying my ‘luck’ and hoping that he wouldn’t kill and dismember it just like his previous toys. I showed him the toy as he sat on the couch – his eyes were glued on the chicken and I could just sense his jaws quivering, wanting to bite and tear into the toy. I told him not to while teasing him with the toy, putting it close to his face. I allowed him to bite it once or twice, but just as he was about to dismember it – you know, with one paw holding the body and with the jaw pulling the fur type of action – I would tell him “No, Indy!”. His eyes would look at me, as if saying, “Can I tear him, Dad? Can I please, pease, please?”. I kept on telling him, “No”. I managed to capture him looking at the toy longingly while also obeying my command not to destroy it.

He’s my boy.


"If Dad tells me not to, then I won't ..."

Published by fuzz

I've finally relented to the lures of blogging - and for those who care, well, I'm a self-confessed geek who's a wanderer at heart, who thinks and analyses too much, and who's trying hard to hold on to his 7-year old inner persona.

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