A tale of two dogs and a delivery boy

DEHRADUN’s winters are merciless. The cold seeps through walls, the mist clings to streets and the dogs in our colony strut about in their thick coats. Among them, two stand apart for very different reasons. One is Moti, the self-appointed watchman. Once abandoned, now everyone’s pet, Moti is sharp, disciplined and on duty 24x7. No stranger enters the neighbourhood without hearing its sharp bark. Loyal, fearless and alert, it is the perfect four-legged alarm system with a wagging tail.

Then comes Sheru, a neighbour’s pet and Moti’s opposite. Sheru is enormous — a hulk with a back broad enough to double as a table. Its looks terrify visitors: it resembles a lion in disguise. Yet, the fearsome exterior hides a pampered aristocrat. It rarely barks, ignores intruders and spends its days on lazy strolls, leaving ‘gifts’ generously around the colony before polishing off the leftovers Moti rejects. Unless food is involved, Sheru is aloof, emotionless and entirely uninterested in the world.

It was on one such freezing afternoon that the drama unfolded. My doorbell rang and I saw a van with a delivery boy. Moti stood like a cop, ready to interrogate the intruder. The boy pleaded from inside the van, “Bhaiya, please pakad lo isko!” I grabbed Moti’s collar with one hand while trying to scan the QR code with the other. Only then, reassured that Moti was under my grip, did he nervously get down from the van with my parcel. But Moti sensed the moment. Sliding forward, lips curling, it let out a strange half-growl, half-moan that sent shivers down the youngster’s spine. His face turned pale. Fear froze him to the spot.

I tried consoling him. “Don’t be scared. Dogs only chase those whom they don’t trust.” He nodded, trembling, eyes fixed on Moti. I then teased him, “Arrey bhai, you are so scared of Moti?” He turned to reply — and froze. Because silently, like a ghost, Sheru had materialised behind him. The beast blocked the lane with its massive frame. For the boy, this was no longer a routine delivery — it was a horror film. He didn’t scream. Instead, he leapt straight onto me, clinging as if I were the only raft in a stormy sea. I was wedged between a trembling boy in front, Moti growling at one side and Sheru looming silently behind like a mountain that had suddenly grown legs.

Moti barked ferociously, Sheru towered menacingly, the boy shook like a leaf — and just then my phone buzzed cheerfully, “Payment successful”, mocking the commotion. My neighbour rushed out to drag Sheru away, while I somehow restrained Moti. The boy sprinted down the lane like a man fleeing death itself. Since that day, he has never returned to our colony.

Dogs, after all, have unfathomable faithfulness. Sometimes they wag their tails, sometimes they guard their masters — and sometimes, in their own way, they gift an unsuspecting visitor a story he will never forget.