The Dog and the Naan
Our dog Ben, is now a year old. He hardly qualifies as a pup. He's nearly five feet tall, standing on his hind legs. And his formidable size and structure does his dalmatian-Alsatian ancestry justice. However, for the most part, Ben acts like a coy, spoilt, and occasionally retarded child. He barks mindlessly at suspicious looking shadows, proceeds to ignore my brother and me if we've been spending 'quality-time' together without him, sleeps on as cats strut about his territory. So far Ben is concerned, and both my parents, I might add, see it fit to encourage this attitude, he is not a dog. Chasing cats is a menial activity, far below his dignity. So far the aircon is on, and he has a fat pillow and a reasonably thick blanket, Ben doesn't have a care in the world. Sometimes however, Ben's canine nature overpowers him and gets the better of him. One such incident happened the other night with a piece of naan. Dad had brought some naan and kebab for din