Mrs Goody Two Shoes XXVIII

Living a nightmare

For the four days she was with me, she held me on a leash and took advantage of my kindness

So there we were, Queeny and me, the most incompatible of companions. The husband had slunk into the shadows, overpowered by the presence of a dog who was the monarch of all it surveyed. It was four days of trauma for me and four days of malicious fun for Queeny as her mistress, Mrs Mehrotra, partied away in Goa.
Queeny's eyes had been so sorrowful as she bid Mrs Mehrotra goodbye that even I had almost bought the act. The moment Mrs Mehrotra's car zipped out of our front gate, she tilted her head towards me and I saw it again, that evil glint she had given me when she had first heard she would be our house guest for a while.
I pulled at her leash. She did not budge. I tugged one more time. She growled under her breath. Cautiously, I bent a little and patted her head. She snarled and snapped at my fingers. I felt like giving her one tight slap, except that our guard was watching and he is a big tell-tale. His voice oozing with sarcasm, he told me, "Madam, it is clear that you have never handled such a good breed of dog. It's okay, I understand. Usually, middle class people don't have such dogs. Anyway, she does not like walking all the time. Carry her upstairs."
I felt like I would blow my lid. Gritting my teeth, I lifted that pesky little creature.
I remembered how I had crooned "they are so cute, I wish I could just cuddle them" while watching the spa-going, diamond-wearing little pups in Beverly Hills Chihuahua. I had stared wonder-eyed as these dogs went through their schedules and appointments, parties and preening sessions. Their rosters of a week's fun and activities were way longer than my year-long plans. Yes, the movie had been fun to watch. Living in it wasn't quite the same though I thought as I cradled her in my arms. I held her like a baby, with all gentleness, in mortal fear of the invisible Mrs Mehrotra -- she had warned me sweetly, "Make sure you take proper care of her."
As these words buzzed through my head, I felt a trickle down my elbow. That dog had peed on me! Just a few drops, which infuriated me even more since I knew she had done it deliberately. I kicked my front door open and was about to throw her down when those words returned to haunt me again. I placed her on a cushion I had kept for her on the floor of the living room and ran to the bathroom to have a shower.
I came back. She was gone. I was so frightened. I cursed myself. How could I have left the door open? I ran downstairs and seeing me panic, the guard sensed something was wrong. "What happened madam? Queeny is okay, no?"
"Yes yes. Why should she be not okay?" He was so annoying. I ran around for a while and confused about what to do, ran back upstairs. There she was, covered in mud and filth. Covered in mud and filth and on my prized cream-laced bed. I stifled a cry. She had had her adventures in the garden and grabbed the choicest spot in my home. I went to the kitchen. She had overturned my milk carton and rummaged through the dustbin.
The nightmare that begun went on. I would take her to the spa and she would escape from my grip to roll in the mud. I would feed her, she would go and steal from the next door neighbours. I do not know how I survived through the days. But I still tried to be nice. But that ungrateful dog tricked me on the last day again. I bathed her and dressed her nicely as we waited for Mrs Mehrotra's return. I took my eyes off for one moment and she overturned the dustbin, rubbed herself in the waste and presented herself with a meek, docile, lost expression in front of her mistress. Mrs Mehrotra nearly fainted. So did I.