For a woof and a wag

IN so many things we seem to go through life in a haze. The ‘mindfulness’ that one wants to follow and is advised to do, seems to have a mind of its own and wanders off at will. Someone suggested that this ‘mindfulness’ should extend to every action that we take and to everything that we see, but do not observe.

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This is for everything, no matter how small — the number of bites we take at a meal, the size of the carpet in the bedroom or the number of razor strokes taken to shave. All this seems a little extreme, especially as one has attended functions where one has been clueless about who was sitting on the adjoining chair. This has led to considerable embarrassment on my part and piles of ruffled feathers and scores of bruised egos elsewhere.

But so far, nothing has surpassed that time, when ages ago, my father took our dog for her morning walk. It was a bright and sunny summer morning in the hills as both father and pet stepped out. A good friend, soon to become my brother-in-law, had just returned from Dharamsala where His Holiness the Dalai Lama had just finished conducting a series of special rituals. The friend had, in passing, mentioned that some good friends who were followers of His Holiness would be coming back to Shimla with him.

With mindfulness missing, one did not pay too much attention to what he was saying or to who those guests were.

Those guests came, and they and my father crossed each other on the road. It seems that a long conversation ensued, much of which had to do with dogs and their intricate connection with humans. This just may have been triggered from the fact that our dog was a Tibetan terrier and at one time, it was a much prized breed and greatly treasured by Buddhist lamas.

In time, both father and pet returned home and the family sat down for breakfast. In passing, my father mentioned that he had met a ‘very good looking and intelligent couple’ on their walk.

It was much later in the day that we learned that the couple that our father had met was the remarkable actor and humanist, Richard Gere, and the stunningly beautiful super-model, Cindy Crawford, to whom he was briefly married.

When we still did not know this, we had laughingly asked our father if our much-loved terrier was prettier than the lady he had met. “No question, our girl is the prettiest,” was his reply.

A woof and a wag could be expected in return.