The resident food monster

Lucky was not just our jet-black Pomeranian. He was an actor, joker, ghostbuster and lovable rascal while doubling as a part-time guard. Guarding was, however, not his forte. He lacked discrimination, ending up barking at the old and infirm besides little children while leaving XXL-sized strangers alone. He entered our lives in December 2000 as a cuddly five-week pup to spread joy throughout our home, and through his 14-year lifespan, he left a legacy of delightful memories. He was up to strange antics, at times with comic timing that kept us in splits.

While Lucky was the darling of our household, he shared a special bond with my daughter right from day one. Over time, this bond manifested in tacit understanding, especially during meal times. My daughter was a poor eater. Barring junk food, regular meals were regarded by her with evident disdain. After all the other family members were done with their daily meals, she would invariably struggle for long to complete hers, dribbling morsels to different corners of the plate before reluctantly eating them. Things changed when, as a 12-year-old, she devised, in collusion with her tail-wagging one-year-old accomplice, a seemingly foolproof food disposal strategy.

During meals, we noticed she had developed a strange habit of disappearing into her study with an uncharacteristic sizeable meal portion heaped on her plate. Lucky followed her soon, his platter dangling from his jaws. Within 10 minutes, they emerged with different expressions. My daughter’s plate was empty, and she appeared relaxed while Lucky sported a beatific look. It did not take long to figure out the inspiration that caused her transformation. Indeed, the evidence literally presented itself on a platter – Lucky’s. On conducting a discreet reality check by peering between the curtain partings of her study room door, I discovered her “inspiration” polishing off food that was being efficiently transferred from her plate to his in quick instalments. Surprisingly, Lucky had the food quietly without the slurping noise that normally accompanied his meals. An intelligent canine, he must have realised that discretion was in the best interests of both partners-in-crime as they switched roles of benefactor and benefited unobtrusively.

Indeed, Lucky’s role as my daughter’s saviour extended beyond meals. He had a knack for bailing her out of difficult situations whenever required, ignoring occasionally the need for observing behavioural niceties and decorum.

It so happened, one winter evening in 2008, we found him distractedly growling at a spot to the immediate right of where my daughter was seated, facing him, reading some college study material. Clearly fidgety, he continued to growl at that point. Suddenly, without warning, he lunged past my daughter towards that spot, missing her, in the process, by a whisker. It was as if he had seen some apparition there and decided to ward it off from her. Within minutes, Lucky was back to his normal playful ways, having apparently scared the “non-living” daylight out of the invisible intruder.