Two Angels and a Devil | Flash Post 385

Button, who do you think I’m talking about? I’ll give you three guesses.

Angels, are pretty young girls with wings, wearing white gowns and holding wands in their hands? My image of a devil would be someone with two horns on two sides of his head?

I asked who are the angels and the devil amongst us.

Amongst us?

We have all three at home: One of the angels is our very own Labrador and the other is the 9-months old three-legged pup we rescued a month back.

And our in-house devil is Messi, you’re saying?

Absolutely. Together they complete the triangle.

But Messi’s not a devil!

He’s become much, much tamer now. Have you watched him imitate the Labrador and our other baby by posing in exactly the same manner, especially when it’s lunchtime, waiting to be served? Tea, at home for the four of us is a ritual served by the best tea-brewer in the world, chotididi, in designer teaware, picked from Saikai Touki a store specialising in hand-crafted crockery in Japan, carried back by me with tender loving care and fresh khari biscuits ordered from the Taj every few days and warmed in the microwave to perfection. That’s when the three have their treats with Messi eating out of a tiny bowl with his name embossed on it because he refuses to eat off the floor like our angels do.

That’s because he is spoilt and feels neglected. I’ve observed that every time the other two roll on their backs expecting a massage or a rub- down or even raise their arms signalling us to scratch their underarms, Messi does the same. He, too, expects a kiss on the mouth every time he catches us kissing the other two from the corner of his eyes. I’ve also caught him trying to pee on the newspapers spread out on the terrace for the two.

The Labrador, however, is our racist angel. She plonks herself in her chosen spots, lazying around  the whole day, jumping up at mealtimes, walktimes and when her treats are given to her. She wears that snooty look when the three legged one is around as if to say—which planet are you from? Look at me, I am pretty, fair-skinned and have four legs for support. But she’s slowly becoming more tolerant of the little one and even allows her to sleep next to her, almost cuddling her.

Tell me why you think Messi’s a devil.

Well, as he’s gets older, he’s becoming more demanding. He wants the door leading to the terrace unlocked at 6 every morning so he can rush out, chew on some lemon grass to clean his teeth before looking for something to prey on. It could be a butterfly or a centipede. He’a also preyed on pigeons, not for food but as something to play with. Anything that’s alive and moving is a toy for him. I’ve seen him leap in the air, bring down a butterfly, toss it gently with his paws and wonder why the butterfly won’t play with him. Very often I’ve walked out onto the garden and found him looking up at my face and down at the butterfly as if to tell me—can you help that poor creature? I don’t know if I’ve hurt him. That was not my intention! I actually wanted to play with him. And I have saved a number of butterflies by gently picking them up and placing them on a branch or leaf so they have some time to recoup and fly away. At times when he sits on top of the dining table, staring down at our youngest angel with ears perked that look like two horns and a puffed-up face, he does look like the devil. He can also be destructive if he chooses to be. A few days back, he scratched one of the angels rather viciously because she raced with him reaching the finishing line way before him. He also tore crucial papers kept on top of the dining table, showering  the little one with confetti while she sat on the floor expecting much more. Disappointed, she crouched on a larger sheet of the document and relieved herself.

I would still say Messi is a good-meaning devil.

But a devil, nevertheless. See for yourself.