The Most Majestic Breed

Kaiser is a purebred male Rottweiler.

Back in 2009, we decided to get a Rottweiler, after my 2nd Pomeranian passed away of old age. She was 14. She survived one cancer, but another claimed her.

We had read all the bad press about them. Virtually everyone we spoke to about our decision tried to talk us out of getting a Rottie. But we got one anyway. He was the perfect puppy. He had the sweetest face, and at 7 weeks old, he weighed 4kg. For me, that was a delightful lot of puppy! He was black velvet and a bundle of bad attitude.

My mother suggested he be named Kaiser. Such a powerful name, this is probably the only breed that can do justice to it. In spite of all her apprehensions, my mother just melted when she first saw him. She can rarely resist something that is black in colour; but give her a black puppy, and she's sold.

Kaiser was loved, treasured and spoiled from the day he was born. His parents (Tyson and Kylie) belonged to a well-to-do family that cried, hugged and kissed him when we took him away. I come from a family that dotes on dogs, and it was easy to spoil this puppy.

We trained him to be friendly with all sorts of people. We took him on long walks. We loaded him in our car, or at the back of our pick-up and took him on trips out of town. Kaiser has been to my office, where my colleagues have smothered him in love and treats.

And then came the baby. Kaiser was told that he was going to be a nanny. He didn't make a very effective nanny...often giving me this "whyyyyyy did you do this to us?" expression when the baby cried late in the night. But he was the most incredible protector. The 45kg lug who had to be told that there is a stray cat in the premises and to puh-lease chase it away was swift when a bird landed on the cot. He caught and slaughtered it.
On another occassion when my daughter was playing in the yard, a big fat Monitor Lizard had ventured in to the garden only to be chased away by Kaiser. My husband had walked out during the commotion only to find Kaiser furiously barking at the Monitor who was clinging to a pillar on our fence, just out of Kaiser's reach.

Kaiser has made me proud on multiple occassions. At a gathering of my extended family, one of my little nephews would poke him on the thigh....and when Kaiser turned to look, the little boy would squeal and run away. Kaiser went back to snoozing only to find himself being poked again. His father was worried, and asked his son not to harass Kaiser. I kept an eye on him for a while. The little boy paid no heed, and Kaiser did no more than look when he was poked.

Kaiser has made us laugh many, many times. He ran off with an umbrella in his jaw once. And carrying it horizontally, he tried to gallop in through the front door. Needless to say, he couldn't come in.

After a particularly long luxurious bath, he was so comfortable that when called for breakfast, he just collapsed mid-walk and went right back to sleep.

My daughter was just a few weeks old when one my favourite aunts visited us at home. She held the baby for a long time, the entire duration of which Kaiser lay quietly at her feet. He dosed off and began to snore. I'm used to this, so it barely even occurred to me that he was snoring. But after a few minutes, my aunt asks me "Do you have a saw mill near here?". I replied "No".
Aunt : "Then who's sawing wood?"
Me : "That's Kaiser snoring"
Aunt : "Don't be silly"
The sawing of wood stopped at the exact moment that Kaiser was shaken awake.

Everyone worried about Kaiser being jealous of the baby. Au contraire. This boy was jealous of my mother's plants! On one occassion he ran off with a potted plant (yes, the pot went too). One too many times, he would uproot her plants, shake it clean of all the soil on it's roots and hand them to her. One day at work I get a call from her.
Mom :"Do you know what your puppy did?"
Me : "What did he do?"
Mom : "He picked the flowers in my garden and laid them at my feet!"
Me : "So you got flowers? Isn't that a nice gesture?"
Mom : "NO! I want my flowers alive on the trees! Not dying at my feet!"

In no time at all, our little Kaiser had grown in to a handsome 45kg stud. He loved his food. He loved other people's food too. He turned his nose up at fancy dog treats. He thrived on red rice and curried meat and veg. His vet (and my friend) took pride in the fact that he loved buffalo curd. He had the most voracious appetite, and was happy to consume any number of square meals that were given to him each day.

A rather frequent call I got while at work went as follows;

Mom : "Do you know what your puppy did?"
Me : "What did he do?"
Mom : "He stole all his chicken!"
Me : "If it's his, how can that be called stealing? Didn't he just take what was his?"
Mom : "I made all that chicken for his lunch AND dinner. Now what am I supposed to give him to eat for lunch?"
Me : "Fish?"
**Line goes dead**


There is too much to write about Kaiser. Maybe I'll compose a series about the antics of Kaiser?

Paper and ink from decades ago

I often find myself calling hoarders "hoarders". It's only when it came to spring-cleaning my own cupboards that I realized just how many things I myself have accumulated over the years.

Once you attach sentiments and feelings to things, it becomes that much harder to dispose of them; and that much easier to just put it back thinking "I can't get rid of this!".

In the last half day, I skimmed through 3 shoe boxes worth of letters and cards. I seem to have retained every birthday card I received since 1987. One that I have treasured the most is this adorable little pink card from my grandma. It has a drawing of a fluffy brown kitten sitting in a cane basket on the front, and she sent it in 1988.

And then there are the letters.
My oh my, the letters!

The single largest number of letters were from my classmate Amila. We used to write constantly to each other during the school holidays. Prabodha and Erandi feature prominently in the letter count as well. Then there are the girls who migrated early on....Dasuni, Gowri and Dhasha have penned a number of neat and tidy letters my way. I remembered all this; but what came as a pleasant surprise was the sheer number of letters I'd received from Saumya.
Samanthi hasn't sent me a single letter; which is odd...given that she was and still remains my best friend. But boy are there are a lot of no-reason cards from her! Many of these letters and cards have played on my then obsession with Elvis.
And then there were a few random letters from male friends and acquaintances. Interesting characters some; others whom I struggled to shake off. And a few, like Maneesha, who are still in touch though far across the seas.

Shankari is a girl I met and became very close to during a holiday in Singapore, way back in 1993. Every single letter that I had received from her was in a neat pile. It was interesting to see the change in her writing through the years from then, until 2005. Then came e-mail. It killed the need to write and post letters.
Darn it.

We all seem to have liked fancy stationary. But would often settle for scrawls on an old foolscap paper, or a sheet of paper ripped out of an old exercise book. Be it square rule, or single rule or even completely blank, Amila for instance, had written to me on all kinds of paper. There is a delightful mix of languages and scripts, and differing colours of pens and pencils used. My friends from abroad wrote in small, neat letters, and have covered every last inch of the paper (front and back) to minimize wastage.
It also looks to me as though we've all used old stationary discarded by our parents and elder siblings. As further cost cutting measures, we've used aerogrammes and stamped envelopes. Do these things still exist??

I miss those days.
Today's communication may be fast and easy, but it lacks the character and longevity of the good old pen and paper method.
I'm sure the change in handwriting, in contexts and contents are all reflective of how each of our personalities changed over time. My first letter from Shankari was neatly written on a sheet of pink Japanese stationary; the last letter from her is a hurridly scrawled half sheet where the words are far apart, and the letters were skinny and long.

But unfortunately, I don't have the time to read them anymore. I have retained a few very special ones, but have chosen to discard the bulk of it. Why? Because I can't see myself ever having the time to sit and read those again. It then simply boils down to being clutter; and I really need to declutter my house some more.

Two things I will retain though. All the birthday cards I've received, I am unable to throw away. What the heck, I'll hoard that a little longer.

And I've started a new stash. I am now hoarding the birthday cards that my daughter receives too!