There are sometimes when we are hurt by some people dearest to us. Not on a single occasion, but day after day, year after year the same thing happens with amazing predictability. We just can’t fathom the reason of this bad behaviour, we want to leave them at the first chance and go somewhere far away, but we can’t. By the time we gain the opportunity to leave them, we don’t want to leave. By then we finally understand why they had “behaved so badly” with us, because by then we are in their shoes. Guess, who are the persons in this riddle? Parents and children.
I used to be a typical kid without the mischief. More nearer to the “good kid” than the bad one. Like any other kid I was beaten up by my dad whenever I did anything wrong. Like any other dad he did love me nonetheless, but it was hard for me to see that side. I always longed to leave home and go somewhere far away from my dad. Dad always said “one day you will understand me, by then you will be a parent”. Turned out, I didn’t need to be a real parent. Being the caretaker of a stray dog, taught me all that I needed to learn.
I recently adopted a stray puppy. When I took her in she was no bigger than a palmtop, now she is as long as my arm. The earlier two strays that we had adopted were brought by my brother. He and my mom used to care for them. I adopted this one (against my dad’s wishes), so I have to care for her mostly. People say she is a puppy of a foreign breed, maybe Alsatian, veterinarians say she is a street dog. I don’t know about that, but now I am her foster parent. Like any other kid, she is full of bad habits. Every now and then I have to tap her on her forehead to tell her that something she is doing isn’t desirable. She poops and pees all over the garden. Me and my mom, we collect them and deposit them in a corner (I think I read somewhere that this is how dogs are trained to poop and pee and a certain place). Like a naughty kids she doesn’t like to go to bed. Then I have to tap on her forehead a little harder and make angry noises to keep her on her bed. I have to hold her like that for a few minutes till she goes to sleep. Sometimes she wakes up in the middle of the night and whines. Then I have to get out of my bed take her up in my arms, pat her until she falls asleep, put her back in her place gently, lock the doors again as silently as possible and go back to my bed. With time this sort of job loses its charm, so sometimes when I lose temper, my mom handles her. While doing all of this, I have flashbacks of my own childhood. I see myself doing the same things as my dad. The past and present are same; I just got promoted from the post of a son to that of a dad. In a few months I hope I will bag a job. I will have my chance to go somewhere far away from my dad like I always wanted to do, but I don’t want to do that anymore.