Chubby needed a dog behaviourist, Moti Singh said. Chubby needs a spanking, my wife countered. For her troubles, the dog sank his fangs into her knee. Moti Singh said this had never before happened on his beat. He would train the dog if it was the last thing he did. I wrote him a fat cheque for his trouble.
Before anything else, Moti Singh said, I would need to change. He called the staff to upbraid them about my conduct. Chubby was not to sit on the sofa, cuddle on my lap, or sleep in my bed, he informed them. He only misbehaves when you are home, the cook admonished me. He doesn't want to go for a walk when you are around, the dog walker complained too. How will I train the dog if your father does not help me, Moti Singh said to my family. My son said he did not plan to marry, but if he did, he would not entrust his children to me.
Nibbles were forbidden the dog. Rolled up newspapers were kept handy to nudge him into his own bed. No means no, my wife said to him. Tears rolled down his furry cheeks but Moti Singh's cold heart did not relent. Chubby's wardrobe of jackets was dispensed with because dogs don't feel cold, the trainer said. Chubby burrowed his wet nose under my blanket when no one was looking, but was left forlorn when the family sat together watching the news on television. He wagged his tail for Moti Singh, who said, see, he's learning his manners, but wouldn't permit him a treat. He growled in protest, so Moti Singh said he's a bad dog, he needs to be punished, and instructed the cook not to feed him breakfast. When he discovered I had fed him anyway, he made a show of serving his papers. How could he work when his efforts were being undermined, he asked, so I had to beg him to stay even though I wanted him to leave. Chubby's training hours were extended to his disgust and my despair.
It seemed I, not Chubby, was being trained. Walk like this, Moti Singh would tell me, don't slouch, hold the leash tight, don't bend your hand. I turned on my heel, balanced on my knees, learned to doggy trot. You are losing weight, my brother said, have you joined a gym? I told him I was being attended to by a dog trainer, and he informed the whole family about it. Meanwhile, Chubby was put on a diet. Even water was rationed. My cheerful dog became morose. He no longer chased his tail, ripped open the cushions or barked at visitors. He also slept rather more than necessary. Moti Singh said it's because of the cold. I think it's because he doesn't like his life as much any more. Moti Singh has to go, I've informed my family. Trouble is, who'll tell him if I won't?