<p>Both came in from the cold. Rowdy, the ebony indie with distinctive white markings on his forehead and paws—affectionately referred to as "white socks" by some—was fondly fetched from a litter in Mumbai's Western Suburb of Goregaon. He entered our lives on the second day of the inauguration of the Worli-Bandra Sea Link, a rainy Wednesday, July 1, 2009—that will forever be etched in our memories.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Then there was Chotu, indie number two, with an auburn coat as the autumn leaves. He was given a lifelong pass to our period-styled bungalow in Jayalaxmipuram, Mysuru, a city renowned for its delectable cuisine, manna for our gourmet man’s best friend.</p>.<p class="bodytext">You may wonder who arrived first. My loyalties are torn. Chotu, the younger of the two, versus Rowdy, the sagacious elder. Each was special in their own way, giving generously and taking sparingly. Rowdy lived a blessed 15 years, while Chotu, who passed away in the prime of his youth at just four years old due to complications following a fatal seizure, left us far too soon. God knows why...</p>.<p class="bodytext">This is their story, as both coincidentally lie in Umesh’s Bow Bow Pet Cemetery, Preethi Layout, Mysuru, after being laid to rest in idyllic surrounds within a span of under 30 days of each other.</p>.<p class="bodytext">True to his name, Rowdy was a playful and mischievous soul, strong-willed and a trifle aggressive towards those he disliked or saw as threats. Our Rowdy had bitten everyone from his canine and human menagerie. As a result, compulsory vaccination for Rowdy, as well as preventive injections for me, became de rigueur. For the rest of my family, however, complete trust in Rowdy's goodness meant that only the annual vaccination was necessary.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Chotu's ears would perk up at the slightest sound, even the gentle rustle of a biscuit wrapper. For him, it was always a case of "food glorious food, hot sausage and mustard!" He was ever willing and able to indulge in a culinary delight, at any time of day or night. In fact, I often thought he would even dream of food, judging by the swashbuckling antics of his legs during gastronomic slumbers. Slim and trim, Chotu would turn his nose up at pineapple and tangy treats, but everything else was fair game.</p>.<p class="bodytext">When Chotu came, Rowdy instinctively threw a cordon of protection around him. Chotu was not so forgiving, and gnarled and gnashed his teeth threateningly at Rowdy. Trying to separate them at that point would be dangerous. </p>.<p class="bodytext">But now for me, like in the lyrics of Engelbert Humperdinck’s <span class="italic"><em>The Last Waltz</em></span>, “It’s all over now, nothing left to say. Just my tears and the music play... I had the last waltz with you, my Rowdy and Chotu…”</p>
<p>Both came in from the cold. Rowdy, the ebony indie with distinctive white markings on his forehead and paws—affectionately referred to as "white socks" by some—was fondly fetched from a litter in Mumbai's Western Suburb of Goregaon. He entered our lives on the second day of the inauguration of the Worli-Bandra Sea Link, a rainy Wednesday, July 1, 2009—that will forever be etched in our memories.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Then there was Chotu, indie number two, with an auburn coat as the autumn leaves. He was given a lifelong pass to our period-styled bungalow in Jayalaxmipuram, Mysuru, a city renowned for its delectable cuisine, manna for our gourmet man’s best friend.</p>.<p class="bodytext">You may wonder who arrived first. My loyalties are torn. Chotu, the younger of the two, versus Rowdy, the sagacious elder. Each was special in their own way, giving generously and taking sparingly. Rowdy lived a blessed 15 years, while Chotu, who passed away in the prime of his youth at just four years old due to complications following a fatal seizure, left us far too soon. God knows why...</p>.<p class="bodytext">This is their story, as both coincidentally lie in Umesh’s Bow Bow Pet Cemetery, Preethi Layout, Mysuru, after being laid to rest in idyllic surrounds within a span of under 30 days of each other.</p>.<p class="bodytext">True to his name, Rowdy was a playful and mischievous soul, strong-willed and a trifle aggressive towards those he disliked or saw as threats. Our Rowdy had bitten everyone from his canine and human menagerie. As a result, compulsory vaccination for Rowdy, as well as preventive injections for me, became de rigueur. For the rest of my family, however, complete trust in Rowdy's goodness meant that only the annual vaccination was necessary.</p>.<p class="bodytext">Chotu's ears would perk up at the slightest sound, even the gentle rustle of a biscuit wrapper. For him, it was always a case of "food glorious food, hot sausage and mustard!" He was ever willing and able to indulge in a culinary delight, at any time of day or night. In fact, I often thought he would even dream of food, judging by the swashbuckling antics of his legs during gastronomic slumbers. Slim and trim, Chotu would turn his nose up at pineapple and tangy treats, but everything else was fair game.</p>.<p class="bodytext">When Chotu came, Rowdy instinctively threw a cordon of protection around him. Chotu was not so forgiving, and gnarled and gnashed his teeth threateningly at Rowdy. Trying to separate them at that point would be dangerous. </p>.<p class="bodytext">But now for me, like in the lyrics of Engelbert Humperdinck’s <span class="italic"><em>The Last Waltz</em></span>, “It’s all over now, nothing left to say. Just my tears and the music play... I had the last waltz with you, my Rowdy and Chotu…”</p>
