Simba is 5 and loves car rides. Whether he knows you or not, if your car door happens to be open and he sees it, he will jump in. He does not really expect a long winding joy ride, just a few meters down the road and back is enough. It is a really strange obsession of his, one I discovered when he almost plowed me down to jump into my car just as I was getting out of it. But let me backtrack a bit here. Introduce Simba properly.
Simba is a German Shepherd and quite a big one. He belongs to one of my parents’ oldest friends, Sudhir and Pushpa Kulkarni. They have only recently returned home, so I met Simba as a full-grown dog. No actually if I think hard, I did met him, once, when he was a baby. But he was in a crazy mood and I was in full wedding finery, not the ideal greet and meet moment. So I think I can skip that one.
Simba is a friendly fellow, does not hold any grudges. He generally enjoys people, especially being petted and fed, the sweeter the better. His fierce demeanour bellies a sweet disposition. He has Pushpa aunty firmly wrapped around his little claw and uses it to get out of many a sticky situation.
My first (second) introduction to Simba was almost two years ago. My mother and I went to visit the Kulkarnis one afternoon. One second I was getting out of my car, greeting Sudhir uncle, the next I was shoved back in by this huge black and tan cloud of fur. Instinctively my eyes shut and I saw a fast forward of my life’s montage. But very quickly, warm breath, cold drool and the gear shift poking me at an odd angle, brought me back to reality. Looking up I saw a grinning, drooling 50 kg dog sitting on me and expectantly gazing down at me. I was lost, blank, no idea what to do.
And then I remembered. My sister had warned me to be careful when I got out of the car, to watch out for Simba. I was told to see if Simba was outside, to give him a short car ride and only then get out of the car. I forgot and paid for it. But in my defense, growing up Sudhir uncle was one of my favorites and I was excited to see him after so long, I forgot. So Simba reminded me. Not too gently. For a week every time I sat, I remembered.
But back to the tale at hand. It really was not Simba’s fault either, he thought I was leaving with giving him his ride, and he of course could not let that happen. So he acted as any self respecting car ride loving dog would. Plain and simple. Once he was inside there was no way he was letting me out the driver’s side. So I crawled out the passenger side door, rounded the car and gingerly settled on the driver’s seat. Simba got his ride, I got a tingly sore backside and everyone got a good laugh, still does. I doubt I am ever going to be live this one down.
Do you have any crazy tales to share?