Category Archives: Animals



This is a piece by reddit user Euthenios that i felt the urge to put on my blog so i can come back to it whenever i want. Thank you Euthenios.

The last thing I remember is My Person bringing me to the Sharp Place.

I never understood why My Person would bring me to the Sharp Place. The smells were sharp, and they poked me with sharp things. That’s why I called it the Sharp Place. It was a bad place. I didn’t like it.

I don’t know why My Person brought me there, that day of all days. I already hadn’t been feeling good. I’d been throwing up, and my hips hurt and my paws hurt. Even eating grass didn’t help. And then My Person brought me to the Sharp Place. I tried to be mad at him, but he seemed so sad about something, so I tried to wag my tail to cheer him up. I didn’t even really notice when the Sharp Place poked me.

Then my eyes got heavy and that was the last thing I remember.

“Buddy,” a voice said. “Buddy, wake up.”

I opened my eyes and got to my feet, and I realized my paws didn’t hurt anymore. I tried a wag, and that was fine, too. I sniffed the air. It smelled like the Play Park and like Our Home and the Car Window. I liked it a lot.

“Welcome, Buddy,” came the voice again, from behind me.

I turned around, and there was a person there. He wasn’t My Person, but he was all safe and good smells, so I trusted him.

“Where am I?” I said.

“You’re in the place that Good Boys go” the person said.

“I was a Good Boy?” I said.

“You were a Very Good Boy,” he told me.

That was good. I always tried to be a Good Boy. “Where’s My Person?” I asked.

“He’s still down there,” the person said. And he waved his arm and all of a sudden we were in Our Home, and My Person was sitting on the Forbidden Chair and looking sad. Every so often, he’d look over at the Okay Couch, where I was allowed so sit, and his breath would catch because he was very sad. I tried to nuzzle him, but my nose just passed through his hand.

“What’s happening? I don’t understand,” I said.

The person sighed. “You can’t be with him right now, Buddy. I’m sorry. It’s the way of things.”

I thought about this. “So it’s like My Person is on the Person Bed, and I’m not allowed there?” I said.

“Exactly like that,” the person said. “But he can be with you someday. If you choose to wait for him.”

“Of course I want to wait for him!” I said. Not wait for My Person? Who did this person think he was talking to?

“Hold on, Buddy,” the person said. He seemed sad about this for some reason. “It’s not that simple. You have a choice.” He got down on one knee and he looked into my eyes. “There are bad things in this world, Buddy. Very bad things.”

“Like Neighbor Cat?”

“So much worse than her, Buddy.” He waved his hand, and I saw what he was talking about. He showed me dark things, that were like snakes and rats, only worse. Worse than the Sucking Machine. Worse than the Sharp Place. They smelled evil.

“These are the things that want to hurt him, Buddy. They want to hurt everybody. So you can wait for him, or you can keep him safe. But if you choose to keep him safe, then you can’t see him again.”

“What, never?” I said.

The person nodded. “Never, Buddy. I’m sorry. Those are the Rules. It’s a terrible choice.”

I looked at my paws. I didn’t want to not see My Person ever again. But I wanted to keep him safe even more.

“I know what I have to do,” I said, and the person waved his hand, and all of a sudden we were in a place with there were as many dogs as I have every seen before. More, even.

“These are all the Good Boys who chose to keep Their People safe,” the person said.

I looked at them all. I couldn’t believe it, still. “But there’s so many of us!” I said. “How many Good Boys are here?”

The person looked down at me. He smiled, but I could tell he was also partly very sad.

“All of you, Buddy. Every single one.”




Good Doggie

Mickey was our dog at my grandma’s house when we were kids. My brother and I, the whole family – we loved him. We got to see that handsome son of a bitch only once a year, for a few weeks during our summer holidays. He would jump with joy when we came on holidays and howl in angst on the last day when he saw our suitcases packed for the flight back to Oman.

But this story isn’t about Oman or Mickey or my brother or the extended family of 10 during those holidays. It’s about the unsuspecting postman and untied chains.

You see, those holidays, I always slept in one of the rooms on the ground floor. Mickey was tied at night to the window in that room. So I went to sleep petting him through the window, and he slept after he’d licked my face a couple of times through the grills. Some mornings he’d be fast asleep when I woke up, and on some he’d be a restless little fucker moving around a hundred times to find his comfy spot. One such morning, when he’d rattled the grills with his belt a dozen times and disturbed my sleep, I thought it’d be better to just untie him. I love my sleep too much.

Now he had the habit of barking at the guy who brought fish around to the house, the newspaper guy, postman, etc. like most dogs. But since he was always tied, they’d snigger at him and get on with their jobs and move to the next house. On this day though, the postman wasn’t so lucky.

Mickey was untied and nobody had a clue.

I woke up with a start when I heard the guy scream. Mickey made a run for him. As I looked out the window, the hundred different letters from his bag were still hovering over the ground, still landing on earth in slow motion, like a paper-storm. Mickey of course, only ran until the point where he was stood. By then the postman had dropped everything in his hands, sprinted like speedy Gonzales, and fallen into a ditch many yards away. When Mickey saw that, he stopped running and barking, calmly turned around and came back to his spot like his job had been done. The intruder had been scared away. Good doggie.

I was 8 years old but even then I knew I had to lie to save myself some spanking from mum, so I told everyone I had NO IDEA how Mickey was freed. It was some spirit dog at night that untied him. Either that or Mickey was the smartest chain-untying dog in the world.

Gentleman’s Club

(Post from Jan 28, 2015 – that i just found in my drafts. Somehow escaped my sight, so here it is)

Location: Tarapoto, Amazon Basin, Northern Peru.

Life after the jungle has been surprising. The rules are as follows. No spices, no citric, no fats, no coffee, no carbs, no meat, no tomatoes, no onions, no drugs, no sex, no weed. For at least 30 days.

When i got out of the retreat, i came straight to Colores, the same place i had spent 10 days the last time i was in Tarapoto. This time around, there were 3 men when i checked back in (with Juan Carlos). So it’s now officially a gentleman’s club. That’s an awesome strategy to keep all horny thoughts away, for a straight guy at least. We occupy hammocks in boxers all day and have farting contests. The one that makes everybody run for fresh air wins. Fernando is the current unbeaten champion. Dora the dog comes in a close second, but she doesn’t win any prizes cos she’s female. At other times, we play poker. I suck at it though.

We watch movies, from my collection of 10 flicks that i carry everywhere, on J-C’s big screen. I’ve even downloaded spanish subtitles so they can all understand, and i can learn spanish too. Sometimes J-C takes the tv into his room to skype. I bet skype sex is better on a 50 inch screen. But i sure hope he’s not cheating on the diet. He’s broken up and patched up with his girl 4 times in the last three weeks.

He, and every other fucker here has a bad habit of putting used matchsticks back in the matchbox, and if i berate them they just laugh and tell me to fuck off. ‘Hahahahah fuck off you indian guy’. So i spend my time reading Palahniuk, watching TV shows (just finished Homeland S04), my fave movies on repeat with Spanish subtitles, listening to amazonian music, playing the guitar, playing with Dora, and removing used matchsticks from matchboxes. Not the most exciting life i’ve led, but definitely the most peaceful and contented. Sex, drugs & rock n roll can take a vacation.

Last week, on 22nd Jan, we opened an Indian veg resto ‘Bambu’ as part of Colores. The place was mostly done up by Miro, the one-man-army from Halifax, Canada who came here to start a new-earth project in the jungle. For cycling down the Nevada desert naked in the early 90s, he deserves his own post on this blog. Our chef is Margie, who lives 10 blocks away. She spent 12 years in India, Poona to be specific, and she makes amazing chole-bhatura. My job was helping Fernando and Gabriel (from the Canary Islands) to paint the logos and signs outside, and playing bollywood music on opening night. Dished out my favourite tunes growing up, from Amitabh Bachchan movies to Aamir Khan flicks, to R D Burman and Kishor and even some Rahman thrown in for eclectic feels and all that. Bollywood night in an Indian veg restaurant in Peru. How we never cease to surprise ourselves…

The next day we were in the papers. There’s a pic of me hiding behind the laptop screen. I’m going to make a youtube playlist for Margie to play every night. Maybe i’ll share it with you.

This week i’m in San Roque de Cumbaza, where the town is gearing up for the carnaval, the biggest festival all over south america. Every nook and corner is going to be a massive party. And i’m headlining act on Sunday night. AND, i’m going to be playing sober. But there’s no other way than to nail it inside out. I’m living at this gorgeous place over the hills called San Roque Centro de Artes, where artists from all over the world come down to do a residency, teach kids, art instalments, etc. It’s run by Daniel, who was with me in Cumbaza for the ceremonies, and his wife. Daniel has literally shown me the light a couple of times in the last month, especially since i’m blind at night . There’s a gorgeous cat here, that Daniel brought with him from Cumbaza, and Arco, the white lab. I’ll be here till Monday. Then another 10 days at Colores, and back on the road post that. Can’t wait to climb some snow-capped mountains, or hit up an oasis, or just go surfing again.

Kerala – God’s Own Country

I don’t like to post disturbing images. But this absolute lawlessness in ‘God’s own country’ has gone way beyond even God’s comprehension.

40 dogs were killed 2 days ago in Kannur. This has been happening on a daily/weekly basis for a long time now. Apparently these harmless little creatures are seen as ‘dangerous to society’ by the most literate state in the country. Makes me shudder to think what the rest of our great country is capable of.

Some of the images posted on this page make my heart wrench.

Screen Shot 2015-08-25 at 10.10.44 am

Show me a more dangerous creature than man. There are pups in that picture that don’t look more than a month old. And this is just one pic from over the last one year of this absolute massacre. I can’t go through most pics myself. How cold our species has become.

In this last episode, two women who tried to intervene were apparently manhandled by the contract goons, in the presence of police. Our great land. If you can read Malayalam, this below is a letter from the State Public Information Officer & Health Supervisor – Kannur, to my dad, who intervened in the killings around July of last year. This letter reassured that no further killings would take place, but exactly a year down, nothing seems to have changed.


I pray this ends soon, before the state has no dogs left. When you realize you’ve disturbed the balance of nature, it’s too late.

The mass mentality in Kerala is so pathetic towards dogs, that such atrocities are just ignored by the junta. The ignorance needs to be treated, the fear needs to be addressed. I mean, how many dogs have harmed humans, as compared to humans themselves. Can we go about injecting cyanide into humans on a mass scale and dumping them into holes in the ground? I would love that.

Adopt pets. Introduce your children to them. It’s engraved in stone, a child growing up with these four legged souls grow up to be much, much better human beings. If one has to learn unconditional love, it is from them. Even your moms and pops and kids may disown you some day. Dogs will never.

Help in any way you can. Ask for answers. Boycott Kerala till this bullshit ends. Make a noise. That houseboat ride through ‘nammade keralam’ and it’s backwaters can wait. God’s watching your priorities.

Sorry if you thought this was going to be a post about Kerala tourism. #BoycottKerala