Sunday, August 21, 2016


That's Ranga and he adopted us last month. He just showed up at our door with twinkling eyes that said "You are mine!" No questions asked. It was raining and he chose us. He could have chosen the tenants on first floor. But no, he raised his expectations and called dibs on the ones on the second floor. No complaints so far. He's adorable and is far from a nuisance. He's not an exceptionally healthy dog and seems to be an odd man out thanks to his awkward body language. There's barely any strain of confidence in him. He is the only dog i've known who doesn't bark—at all—and ain't fond of bones. His favourite food item is—believe it or not—milk. Bread soaked in milk is relished and finished within minutes. In case if you're wondering why Ranga and not any other popular moniker like Tommy or Tiger? Well, he has wholeheartedly accepted the name and you should stop wondering. The other dogs in the neighbourhood don't like him and chase him whenever he ventures out for a stroll. As a result, he has become a fugitive of sorts who seems to be guarding our door (when he actually isn't). People who visit us, from the laundry guy to delivery boys, ask "Does your dog bite?" and we are like "Forget biting, he doesn't even bark." Ranga basically divides his time between our terrace and second floor with little to no interest for the outside world. Sometimes, i wonder what must have happened to him before he met us; who broke his heart and other poetic stuff. In conclusion, i believe he is better off now. He neither has 99 problems nor a bitch. 

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