WOOF! Let me introduce myself before my humans take over this blog and make it “presentable.”
I was born in a very premium location — a storm drain (aka gutter) on 5th Cross Street, RMV Extension, Dollars Colony. Yes, I like to think of it as “open-air luxury living.” My mom (so I’m told) is a classy white dog named Maya. My dad… well… let’s just say he’s a mysterious, strong, black dog who hangs around a school near Apollo Pharmacy. A bit of a legend. No paperwork, though.
Life started off dramatically. A few months in, my sister and I were hit by a car. I broke my hip (very painful, do not recommend), and sadly my sister didn’t make it. But this is where my hero enters — a kind human named Anjali Nanavati, who rescued me, fixed me, and gave me my name. Basically, my origin story.
Once I recovered, I did what any smart dog would do — I adopted a well-to-do family in Pebblebay Apartments. They think they chose me. Adorable.
Over the years, I’ve trained them exceptionally well. They feed me, pamper me, talk to me like I’m royalty, and occasionally obey commands. I, of course, allow them to love me.
I especially like the boys — Sachin and Harish. Sadly, they’ve moved overseas (probably to earn money for my snacks). Dad is around more these days (humans call it being retired), which means more walks (good) and more lectures (less good). Mom claims she’s “busy,” but somehow still finds time to serve me food. Priorities.
My greatest passion? Football. I am, without exaggeration, the Messi of my apartment complex.
My second passion? Food. Specifically, Parle-G biscuits. Honestly, if they made a Parle-G perfume, I would wear it.
Dad keeps saying I should “do something meaningful” with my life. He shows me Instagram dogs doing tricks. Frankly,
I find this unrealistic and a bit offensive. But fine — to keep him quiet, I’m starting this blog.
Here, I’ll share my adventures, my friends, my enemies (mostly the annoying street cats), and my thoughts on important topics like snacks, naps, and why humans are weird.
Stay connected. Or don’t. I’ll still be fabulous. WOOF
