From: uds@siva.cs.wayne.edu (Seetamraju)
Subject: ........  My travails with <not my> dog ......
Organization: Wayne State University, Detroit, MI
Distribution:  world
Date: Mon, 16 Nov 1992 20:50:43 GMT


			My travails with <not my> dog
			=============================

I stopped buying socks atleast a year ago.  Actually I do not know since when,
because I have put all my faculties on trying to save whatever few socks
are left.

Reason, its the dog, that my  relative's family
own.  Its a female dog.			(OK! its a bitch.  Happy?).
I though of naming her soorpanakha, later settled for super-nakha...
I sort of take the dog out for walks sort of regularly.  If U look at her
physical structure, U will see a dog, but her activity resembles more, a
krishna-squirrel stacking up to support his oversized harem through
the winter.  She moves more like the bullets that fly in the cartoon shows.

But that is a blessing in disguise.  I realized after a full year that taking
a dalmation for a walk is like driving a top-of-the-line mercedes benz to
your barber (U get the scene dont ya?).  I would virtually be surrounded by
retirees and married women, all wanting to pat the dog.  While I strained to
pick out a -no-ring-on-finger-no-mangalsutra-on-neck-babe in the crowd.

No luck.  And so I use the utter lack of stability on my dog's part, to
'excuse-me' my way out of the crowd...  And to complicate matters to my
energetic youth, my dog hates adults, and always zeros in on cute kinter-
gardeners playing outside.  Bored for not having found any babe, I proceed
to tweak all those cute cute cheeks...

		here a tweak, there a tweak
		everywhere a tweak tweak...
		"old man see-tam-raaju, MOM!! 
			eee-aaahhh-EEEE-AAAAHHH-OOOOOOO"

The last two lines are the kids crying out for their moms and dads...
I look scary with my earmuffs and gloves on, when its 50F outside...

Actually, I ride a bicycle, with the dog runnig beside the cycle, on a leash.
Never try this, under U have mastered this (A chicken & egg problem).  I
have been through hell, training the dog to run in a straight line along with
the bike I am riding.  No.  She refuses to (after all she is now in an age
equivalent to an american teenager).  Every footpath has poles, and I would
find myself on this side of the pole, while the dog, is hacking a path parallel
to mine, but on the other side of the pole, and the leash becoming a
lakshman jhoola spanning the distance betweem us.

When that happens, one of us has to fall.  Law of nature.  The dog is firmly
soldered to mother earth with all her four feet, while, I am on borrowed
wheels.  When the bike does come to an abrupt stop, I still am not firmly
on my feet. Rather I am about to firmly land on my belly (I very likely had
lunch just 10 minutes prior to that).

The sub-division that is bare of humans, even when one of the nearby houses
is on fire, suddenly looks like a indian fish market, flooded with people.
Half of them TV journalists, just waiting to get something on to the 5'ockock
news on the major networks...

I hate this country more than I hate this dog.  Every day, I give her an
oppurtunity to prove that she has a superior intellect.

Just when I have
had a hot-water bath, and am about to leave for college, she sits right in
front of me, while I put on my shoes.  She will give U those pityful look
of a creature that had spent four lives in siberia, laboring for a crime
that she didnt commit.  I fall for that trick hook-line-and-sinker.  

Everyday, I prepare myself and dress well, and splash on some PONDS, for
that `one' girl of my dreams who suddenly gets an admission for the fall sem,
when its just two weeks before the fall semester ends.  Then the walk complete
-ly exhausts me and turns me into a panting-stinking maniac in earmuffs and
gloves.  That's how I land up in college.  NO wonder I am still a Bachelor.
And worse a virgin.

Seetamraju Uday Bhaskar Sarma
(email : seetam@ece7.eng.wayne.edu)

P.S.  If U still cant figure what nakha means: it means 'finger-nails'
							in samskritam.