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A Rich Man’s Dog

A Rich Man’s Dog

Hi, I’m Tommy. You know, “Tommy”. From “Humara kuta Kuta, aur tumhara kuta Tommy”. I am what every dog dreams to be – I am a rich man’s dog. I am not like you regular dogs; I wake up in the morning and have a person serve me some dark brown capsules which look like gourmet biscuits. I know this person only by the name ‘Chota’.  Just like me, Chota lives in a kennel, but his is slightly more glorified with a bed, and his own fan. He is responsible to take me out on my daily stroll, during which I almost always poop. I sometimes think that’s the only reason why he takes me out, so I can poop. But every Sunday though, my Master takes me out. It’s the best feeling ever. Something about being his dog just feels right. Like I am fulfilling God’s will – and don’t you dare shout blasphemy at me for being a dog, and thinking there is a God.

I’ll whoop your ass like Jackie Chan,

and karate chop you before you can utter the word “Haram”!

 

 

Wait, where was I? Oh yes! I was telling you about my day. So I go for a walk, and then run to my Master’s car when he goes off to work. It’s usually around noon. I run around the house the whole day, going from one place to another. Yesterday, I went all the way up to the roof twice. I beat my last record, which was only once. Plus my Master adores me. He let me inside the house a week back for five whole minutes. If there is a girl with him, he is particularly friendly and loving. Otherwise he’s a busy guy. He interacts with other humans, who are basically like me. I don’t know, some of his colleagues or friends remind me of dogs. Always running after him and agreeing to everything he says. I guess it looks a little weird looking at people acting the same as you.

“You see I am a pedigree, and that too a Labrador.

In dog terms, I’m above your pay grade.”

 

 

I like it here. It’s easy and comfortable. Being rich is living completely risk free. After some time, my Master is going to bring a suitable mate for me to procreate with. I’ll finally get laid!! I would have done so earlier, but they couldn’t find me a mate of the same pedigree. You see I am a pedigree, and that too a Labrador. In dog terms, I’m above your pay grade. I am your doggy version of a jock.

 

I look around when I go out for a walk, and see how the other dogs without masters are suffering on the streets. I feel for them, but let’s be honest, I really don’t want to be like them. Somewhere inside it disgusts me to look at them. Maybe the idea of not living under my Master’s roof scares me. These strays live without direction.

I’m a dog, and that too a rich man’s dog. My place is here at home, inside 4 walls, serving my Master. And why would I want to live outside anyway? I should thank my lucky stars for what I have. It’s not like I could ever get a proper job, like managing a fun land, you know a land with lots of fun. Fun Fun Fun…Now I want to run a fun land! Wait. No. It’s not freaking Zootopia. Get out of it, Tommy!

While I admire your freedom at times, I would never want to be you. Now I have to go take a shit without a worry in the world. And you can sniff around, looking for pitiful scraps of food out on the street.

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