November 15, 2005

“Get up you lazy lump, it’s already 8 o’clock!”-

- It sounded like my wife’s voice booming from behind, perhaps from the kitchen. “Don’t tell me you forgot it’s Sunday and you have a promise to keep today”!

For a moment I lay motionless on my bed. It was not a good time to be reminded of a promise.

“It is such a beautiful Sunday, Darling” I protested. “not a good time to remind of any promise”

For a split second there was no response from her, but there she was, right in front of me- agitated and furious:

“Don’t tell me you’re not going to take Tarzan for the High Mass today” - she shot back.

The reference to Tarzan reminded me of my promise. Indeed it was an open promise in good faith given for the sake of my love for our pet. Undoubtedly, Tarzan, our dog was the sole recipient of our unconditional love and affection.

Although I had my own suspicions about the Church’s decision to hold a special Mass for pets, it was most unlikely that my wife would take it with a Pinch of salt. After all, she was a die-hard Catholic. 

Daijiworld exclusive caricature by Harini

“Don’t talk like a Lutheran,” she cautioned me. When people like you fail to fulfill their religious obligations, there is no other option but find new ways to attract them to the House of the Lord. Don’t you see the turmoil around the world? The floods in India, the hurricanes in the Americas, the bomb blasts in England, - what does this signify? Isn’t not the hell coming down on us? Isn’t not that we human beings have failed to proclaim the Word of the Lord and to adhere to the Sermon on the Mount.”

“Oh, I don’t think so, darling” - I argued. “I can see still find a lot many ladies around the Church compound, praying for the unfaithful.”

“Really,” she said unconvinced, “and when did you last attend a Mass yourself?”

I had no answer for I myself was unsure.

But arguments aside, I did realize that it was a great opportunity for me to catch up with some of my old pals. So, I gave Tarzan a quick wash and we rushed off to the Church.

Indeed, ‘twas a great experience. The Church was filled to its capacity and I was thrilled to see so many pets – not just dogs, but cats, white rats, rabbits, fish in bowls, and several other species. The Church resembled a zoo. I was also too thrilled to see and meet up with my old choir (girl) friends there - Jenny, Dorothy, Greta, and Mariola. They seemed to be enjoying the best time of their lives.

Old nostalgic memories flashed up on the giant screen of my mind - my brief escapades with a few of them, especially with Mariola not so long ago and then, how I was isolated from her by my wife…and so on.

As the Parish Priest delivered the wonderful sermon for the pets, my mind was feasting on the flashback of events of a bygone era.

After the Mass, we had a big reunion. My old (girl) friends were so happy to receive me back in their company. We chatted away to our hearts’ content.

Later, at home alone with the wife, I explained her about the beautiful morning I had enjoyed. “Huh. Monkeys don’t quit jumping in spite of their age” was the curt response I received from her.

Nevertheless, she was happy to know that Tarzan had a good time and enjoying himself in the House of the Lord.

But not for long! In the third week after the Holy Mass, on a rainy evening when my wife returned from the club, I could observe that she wasn’t a happy lady anymore. Her face was blood red and she was fuming with anger.

“Did you sit next to Mariola, last Sunday” she demanded as she entered the courtyard.

“Yes” I said, with a great sense of guilt in my voice.

“Didn’t I caution you against talking to her, let alone sitting next to her? You know very well she’s a bloody whore!”

“I didn’t know that,” – I replied. “All I know was that she had been one of my best friends.”

“How can you forget the horrifying allegations she made against our daughter Lilla for being friendly with her only son?” she stormed.

“But that was long back, honey” I said. “And don’t forget you who said we Catholics must forgive our enemies and lead new lives.”

“To hell with your new life, I am a Catholic” said my wife. “I can never forgive that bloody Mariola. She managed to get away with what she did to us, years ago. But now that you are my husband, you will abide by my rules. So, you’re not going to take Tarzan to the Church anymore. Do you hear me? Let his soul go to Hell.”

“But are you not depriving Tarzan of his new life”? I said hesitantly. “He was very happy last Sunday. What wrong has he done to Mariola?”

“No, not to Mariola” - snapped my wife.” But to her bloody bitch - that long hairy white Jane, their Alsatian dog”. 

“What????”

“According to Mariola, her bitch is three weeks pregnant from our Tarzan. Now I can visualize exactly what could have gone wrong last Sunday. When you were engrossed with Mariola, I am sure  Tarzan spoiled the virginity of her bloody bitch, that too in front of the whole congregation, inside the House of the Lord!”

“Oh God” I said with utter shock and disbelief.

“And you are to be blamed for this great sex scandal. Do you realize that I have lost my credibility for the second time and become a laughing stock in front of all the ladies from Mary’s Legion?”

She started crying bitterly as I went in search of Tarzan, the ape-man, our most ignorant and innocent soul on earth – according to my wife’s previous statement.