Short Story: A Dogs Day in Paradise

So I've been batting a few ideas around about my blog and spoke with a very close girlfriend of mine as well whose ear I bent slightly.  She thinks that what I want to do has merit and I'm glad because the good lord up above only knows how gun shy I am about sharing too much of my writing.  I mean rejection generally sucks yet at least for the last 2 months or so since I've embraced blogging again, I realize that my writing isn't unbearable.  People actually read this stuff *shrugs* who knew.  Anyhow, the idea has been to use my blog as a sort of platform to introduce people to my story telling skills.  I mean after all if I one day wish to be a published author, I'm going to have to prove that in fact I can write in story form, right?  And that people would actually want to read multiple chapters of said story?  So yes, that's what I'm going to do now on the occasion...write short stories.

In speaking to my GF, I asked her for some ideas for the first short story and she threw out the most bizarre topic ever.  She said it was just a 'key word' that she had picked randomly and that I should let my imagination run with it.  I admit my mind sort of stopped working for a second as I did a mental 'huh?' but then within moments my brain resumed it's normal activity and ideas started to come to me.  So okay, I take up her challenge and write my first official short story...which may have multiple chapters but whatever, still a short story.  Let's see how things go.  Feed back will be appreciated : )

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A Dogs Day in Paradise

With her beloved camera clutched in her slightly sweaty palm, she pressed her right eye to the viewfinder scanning the crowd around her.  She stood like that, turning in slow circles as humanity swept by un-noticing of her solitary figure.  They were all in much too much of a rush to heed the person who found them so very fascinating, a quiet observer.  Her left hand twisted the zoom lens in and out, in and out, affording her the ability to see things probably others were missing or most likely didn't care to see anyhow. 

For instance, there in the distance was an old man hobbling down the dusty side walk with his cane firmly grasped in his hand, hair, beard and mustache as white as snow, perched on the back of his head a white cap which closely resembled a Jewish yamaka that one could easily miss since it blended into his brilliant locks.  He had smallish half-moon glasses perched at the end of his nose and he wore a white long cotton kurta (tunic) with cotton wide legged pants.  He seemed to be laboring slowly, looking straight and oblivious of the ruckus around him.  Just then, the call to prayer blared from a not-so-distant mosque and his head snapped up.  It was then that she took the picture, capturing him forever in the pixels of her camera.  She watched as he lowered his head and kept on going, his speed every so slightly faster, his eyes still ahead, everything about him seemed wise somehow.

Turning a fraction more, she faced the main thoroughfare boasting a 4 way traffic signal.  two sides were zooming by so fast that it made her dizzy so she focused on the cars that were waiting for the signal to turn green.  They were mostly small and compact, all dirty and dingy, the cars of course.  There were a few fairly expensive vehicles thrown into the mix along with big loud obnoxiously decorated trucks and buses packed to the gills with humanity that belched black acrid smoke.  The occupants of the private vehicles sat trying to tame their impatience, some singing to music, a few talking on cell phones, a few more holding conversations with those in the car with them and nearly everyone scowling to some degree.  Beggars wove in and out of the metallic beasts uncaring that they were systematically being shoo'ed away.  They persisted in tattered dirty clothes, faces blackened by lengthy exposures to the sun, gaunt adults and children whose eyes were far too big, bellies shockingly bloated holding out claw-like hands begging for something, anything.

She shot the picture of one small girl, probably about the age of 10 or so, who should have been in school rather then panhandling in the middle of the street.  A small half naked baby clung to her, its bizarrely big head laying listlessly on her shoulder as it tried to sleep through the ruckus of horns, music and general life.  The little girl held in one hand a wilted rose and she kept trying to thrust that through the open windows of the cars.  Some occupants yelled, a few swatted at her as if she were a pesky fly while the bulk abjectly ignored her existence.  The picture captured a moment in which the little one with her eyes sort of lifeless was standing there in the midst of the street placing a lingering kiss upon the babies head which didn't move even an inch.  All in all it was a rather thoughtless gesture but spoke volumes, a sort of tenderness wrapped up in hopelessness, if there was such a thing.  She watched for a few more seconds as the child moved down the street, begging for a handout over and over again but there was gnarly a flicker from those around her so she continued while hoisting the child repeatedly onto her bony little hip. 

Shaking her head and trying hard to blink back the sheen of tears that had crept into the corner of her eyes, she tried to tell herself that this was the way of life here in India, beggars and the rest living together in this sort of bizarre harmony but it just still...shocking.  She couldn't wrap her mind around how one contingent of society seemed to live so well while another was near starvation (or starving).  Plenty of her friends had warned her about this sharp contrast, asked her to mentally prepare herself, had told her not to judge but it was hard to some degree for she lived in a country where one rarely saw such things.  Or may be she was just blind to it?  Perhaps in her own world, she was as desensitized to what was around her as these people seemed to be?  She would go home and pay more attention she promised herself for the 1000th time.  The question was, would she keep her own promise?

Continuing the slow turn in the midst of all that she was trying to take in  she spotted a small dog, scrawny and malnutrition-ed, it's tongue lolling out to one side as it trotted at a weird angle towards the park that was located not far from where she stood.  She lowered the camera, taking the end of the scarf that hung limply around her neck to wipe off the perspiration that studded her forehead.  How did women in this country wear so much clothes, she wondered with a groan.  Not that she was one to show much skin but the long tunic and pants she wore along with the scarf wound around her neck was a bit much in nearly 100 degree weather.  She didn't want to even think about the humidity index that had the clothes on her back literally sticking to her.

Plucking the cotton shirt away from her chest to air out the moisture, she continued to gaze about.  India fascinated her.  The sites, the smells, the people...all of it created a complex tapestry of humanity.  Home was nothing like this where it was...cold.  She thought about that word.  Yes, cold was a good word to describe her motherland although not in too negative of a sense.  Strolling towards the little park she indulged in the thoughts of home.  In her minds eye she could visualize the towering mountains capped with white, the green valleys and the quaintness of her abode.  She had been gone for nearly a week and she was not in the least surprised that there was little 'missing' going on, in fact none in the least.  After all, she looked around again, who could miss anything when there was so much to see, do and experience in a country such as this?  She was the first to admit that her love affair with all things Indian was a long and passionate one and that this trip was one that she had anticipated, as well as saved, for as long as she could remember. 

There were several benches dotting the park path but for the most part they were occupied.  Luckily she spotted one not too far away that was even at that moment being vacated by a young couple.  She had to repress a grin even when she felt too sapped of strength to make even the slightest of movements.  The guy was tall and lanky, wearing a white shirt (what was it about these people and white?) and a pair of pants that sort of hung upon his slim hips.  Tattered sandals adorned feet that were in need of some lotion while on his wrist was a black thread.  He had a mop of unruly black hair that fell across his head in a rather messy heap, the ends near the neck clinging to his skin due to excessive sweating.  His eyes were the same shade of chocolate as nearly everyone, face pleasant but gaunt, a weird 70's style mustache decorating his upper lip.  He had a packet clutched to his hand as he waited for the young girl who was with him. 

She was probably in her early 20's wearing a pair of jeans that were well fitted, a loose printed cotton-ish looking t-shirt and a scarf flung about her shoulder.  Her hair was, like so many other women in this country, to be envied and fawned over.  It was long and lustrous, silky and straight, tied in a ponytail that lay down the left side of her shoulder.  She tried not to feel unhappy with her own locks but that was difficult when one gazed at the women about who all seemed to have stepped out of shampoo commercials.  The girls eyes, which were artfully lined with black, seemed to glow every time she looked at the young man and the lower full bottom lip often found it's way between sparkling teeth as she coyly blushed whenever their eyes met. 

He stood several feet away from her, probably at what would be considered a respectable distance, yet he watched her intently as she was slowly gathering her bags.  Whenever her back was turned his eyes seemed to soften and nearly caress her slight form however when she would look back he would replace this with a polite smile.  This behavior, courtship probably, was again at stark odds to her own world.  There people felt free to express their interest in each other, sometimes a little too freely, but this behavior was not questioned or even really given much notice.  If a couple were found kissing in the middle of the sidewalk, most would just avert their eyes and keep walking not even giving it a seconds worth of contemplation.  Here that was most certainly not the case.  She had seen a few couples holding hands but for the most part distance was always safely maintained.  How the very country which could proudly boast the birth of the Kama Sutra could be this sexually constipated, she would never understand.  But hey, who was she to question this?  It was essentially what it was.

Eventually all the random bags the young girl had strewn around her were gathered into her arms but as the couple faced each other they looked almost uncomfortable.  Shifting back and forth, side to side their heads kept swiveling around to see if anyone they knew were close by possibly scared of being caught.  She guessed that they were probably meeting on the sly and wondered why they would pick such a crowded intersection of the city.  With a few quick words exchanged they both headed off in the same direction but their eyes still clung to each other while their bodies remained at a distance usually reserved for acquaintances, not for two people in love, which they so clearly were.  Within seconds they disappeared into the ever moving crowds.

She sidled up and took their spot, putting down the back-pack that housed an array of camera items and a water bottle which she fished out immediately.  Taking a sip she grimaced.  The water was warm and sort of disgusting but it quenched her thirst to some degree.  She thought of the fresh mango juice a friend had convinced her to purchase from a seedy little shop yesterday.  At that time she was a little doubtful as to the wisdom of consuming such a beverage from what could only be considered quite a questionable establishment but presently she was wistfully wishing that she could have a glass of that tasty juice clutched in her hand but alas the store was half way across town and surprisingly enough there were no vendors nearby because one thing about India, there were vendors and street hawkers everywhere and they sold the most tempting high calorie bad-for-you bordering on deathly yummy food in the world.  "Drat," she thought to herself.

Mentally sighing she pushed the thoughts of hunger and thirst out of her mind (something she could do with ease) as she sat back to simply take in all that was about her.  It was a lovely day, hot but lovely.  Smog hung heavy over the city clogging throats and stinging eyes but that was not unusual, not for the big metropolitan cities in this country (or probably anywhere for that matter) where it seemed as if pollution control was the last thing on any one's mind.  Who gave a damn about global warming when more than half the populace went to sleep hungry?  She had been out since dawn with her camera taking pictures of everything and anything, the air a bit more crisp if that were at all a probability.  It was a little off-putting to see how many people were already up and about that early, mostly the poor blue-collared retail folks getting ready for the coming day but she had enjoyed these moments she had alone to herself. 

The smell of something delicious wafted towards her but she was determined not to indulge just yet.  A few friends had insisted upon taking her to some special vegetarian dhaba (shack) for lunch and it was only about 11am but the meal wasn't until 3pm.  Another thing that was well...foreign to her were these super late meals which left her slightly mystified.  But then again this was a country notorious for snacking but oh no, not the ordinary chips or cookies nonsense, no these people were serious and all about making everything fresh or if not fresh then purchasing things from restaurants where things were being made fresh.  And when such delicacies were available day in and day out, then maintaining normal meal hours didn't seem all that important.  There was also the fact that most slept late therefore meals were pushed back.  Still her stomach had not acclimated therefore by 12 she would be starving.

Somewhere some store had just turned on a radio over loud speakers that was playing one of the most recent popular item songs, a number she actually recognized and could hum to, which she did.  The dog she had spotted earlier was presently sniffing around one of the benches several yards down.  The two occupants there shoo'ed it away with a wave of a rolled up news paper and a few staccato "ja!" ("go!").  It seemed to squeal with it's tail tucked between it's legs as it scurried away. 

Lifting a hand that seemed to weigh a ton, she pushed back a lock of blondish-brown hair from her brow, scowling.  Since arriving her tresses had drawn a lot of attention which went from curious glances to out right stares.  She had gotten used to it but it still made her uncomfortable, the attention.  All she wanted to do was blend but that was an endeavor she was destined to fail in a country where nearly everyone was brown and she was about 200 shades fairer.  Sighing she idly kept eyeing the dog, it was now closer and seemed to have gone back to sniffing the ground.  It wasn't really bothering anyone, just going about its business but constantly passer-byers were either kicking at it or waving threatening hands. 

Here was a really bizarre little thing she had noted...this country was bursting at the seams with stray dogs.  They were everywhere, around everything, under any inanimate or animate object.  She hadn't seen even a single one on a leash and for the most part they all looked close to starving yet they weren't vicious.  Some roamed in packs but for the most part the bulk were independent, trying to steal a scrap of food here or a lick of water there.  No one seemed to mind them, pay the least bit attention nor care if they got run over by a car.  Life was too busy for Indians and in a country where it was hard to fend for oneself, how was one supposed to look after a dog?  She thought to her country and what her countrymen and women would do faced with a dog on the street.  That was easy, it would either be sent to a kennel to be given up for adoption or destroyed eventually but never left to roam free like this.

The one that she was presently watching sat in the middle of the walkway looking around, still panting.  She had no idea of the breed, for all she could tell it was a mutt, beige in color with a whitish underbelly.  Actually another strange fact was that for all the color in the country, the strays were all very bland looking.  She had yet to see a black or white dog, frankly even anything in-between but everywhere there was masses of 4-legged creatures which were...beige.  She wondered why.  What did that signify?  In-breeding?  Something about genetics?  Probably nothing or something deeper?  She was curious, something to may be Wiki if she could remember once home.  The mutt was now laying down but it's eyes were ever watchful, darting hither and yon, alert but it's small tongue poked out of one side.  She wondered if it was thirsty and glanced at her bottle pondering how weird would it be considered for her to offer it some.  A group of young men were presently moving past throwing her lusty looks and cat-calling but she ignored them, that was easy enough to do now.  They at least didn't stop to harass her, which was a good thing because she was carrying mace but the dog was in their path and before she could blink or call out to it or stop it from happening, one unthinking cad instantly kicked it, making contact.  As the rest laughed uproariously the poor pathetic emaciated beast yelped in pain and scrambled away trying to avoid any more abuse.

She sat there stunned, eyes as round as saucers while rage took over.  What that bastard did seemed so harsh, so unnecessary that it was almost unbelievable and his stupid friends were even then slapping his back as if congratulating him for some good deed he had just done while snickering loudly.  The fact that he was probably somewhere in his early 20's should have made him a bit more...sensitive?  Less cruel?  Her outrage was towering but to her shock she noticed that no one else seemed to pay even the slightest bit of attention but she surely couldn't.  It was a vicious kick that surely rendered the dog injured.  Hell she practically had felt the impact in her heart when the jack-off's sneakers struck the hallow side of the dogs ribs causing a terrible loud 'thud'.  She turned in her seat and spotted it under a scrawny tree, laying on it's uninjured side looking for all the world as if it had shrunk in on itself.  Her outrage cried out.  What could she do?  It was clearly a street dog therefore approaching it wouldn't be wise but she hated the idea of ignoring the situation also.

Getting up she skirted a few yards keeping a sharp eye on the mutt.  It seemed to be licking it's injured side, shivering also.  She felt her heart tightened more.  Did anyone notice?  She wanted to find that thoughtless idiot and kick him into next week as retaliation but the first thing on her mind was what to do about the dog.  Just as she was about to approach it the thing seemed to straighten a bit, head swinging to the right seemingly looking into the distance.  An ear went up, the head tilted and it let out a soft little 'woof'.  She took a step back discreetly as the starved mutt got up slowly, almost laboriously and hobbled away.  Her eyes followed the straight line of it's path but saw nothing.  May be it had heard a call from another one of the several dogs that were always around?  May be it smelled food?  Whatever it was, the thing was on a mission even if it was in pain. 

Turning away she saw that her vacated bench was now taken again.  Drat.  Hoisting the backpack onto her never-quite-dry back she recalled a store that she had wanted to explore.  Taking the path the mutt had, she looked for it but it was no where to be found.  She darted through the busy street gasping in the process while muttering a prayer to whichever being was listening.  Sometimes she felt like Frogger dodging traffic trying not to be squashed by cars and trucks or even the occasional rickshaw.  Someone shouted something in Hindi at her.  She would just think that it was something nice as opposed to the likely curse that it probably had been.  She flashed the hostile driver a big huge toothy grin, wiggling her fingers in the process which seemed to irritate him even more.  This fact caused her a great bit of malicious glee as she hit the throngs on the side walk, ignoring the additional irate words he flung in her direction.  The streets were absolutely teaming with humanity, plenty of which needed a good swipe of deodorant.  Scrunching her nose she turned left and headed in the general direction of where she thought the shop was...or was it to the right?  Wait, may be...she gazed around in confusion.  Everything looked so much alike.

As she settled on going left her eyes looked down and there under a dilapidated cart on which an old man in what could best be described as a dirty loincloth lay snoozing with a towel over his face, was the mutt.  Only it was now surrounded by a few more.  Was it his pack?  Did dogs stick with their families?  Another Wiki question.  They all looked about the same: gaunt, starving and yes, beige.  Yet oddly they lay together nearly heaped one upon the other seeming perfectly content.  It was puzzle-some.  She looked about till she found a piece of trash that looked like something that could hold water.  Grabbing it with the tips of her fingers she approached the dogs which paid her zero attention.  Squatting she placed the receptacle a few feet away from them and poured out the rest of her warm water.  Knowing it wasn't much, she felt some what satisfied that she had done something...or at least she liked to think so. 

A few people gave her odd looks but for the most part her actions were ignored.  Even the dogs didn't seem to notice the boon in front of them.  Getting up and dusting herself off, which was always a useless effort because this country was perpetually dusty, she was off.  Her phone rang in her hand.  She glanced down and smiled with pleasure.

"Hello!"  She trilled with happiness at the person on the other end. 

And she was off.