In Mysore, it was Butter Naan, a blonde street dog with eerie golden eyes who adopted the yoga students from Pattahbi Jois’s shala. Butter Naan policed her six-block radius around the shala, chasing off any other strays who might try to benefit from yoga student handouts with a ferocity that was sometimes scary. Although super skinny, it was clear Butter Naan was not hard up for food. Several meals I’d prepared for her and left outside our house remained untouched. Better fare was to be had next door.
In Goa, it was my landlord’s cat. At least I think she was my landlord’s cat. When I first arrived, she slept on my terrace, a discreet distance from my front door. After a week or so, she began sleeping on the doormat, as I gingerly stepped over her entering and exiting my apartment. By the time I left, she was sleeping on my couch or in my closet, under a pile of dirty clothes.
A bounty of precious animals filled my days in Goa. Babysitting Phouka and Puck, orphaned infant lemurs, hanging out with the pack of dogs who also lived with at the Hicks’ residence: Urchin, the patient white dog who allowed Phouka/Puck to pull her tail, ears, nose, ride on her back, nibble on her legs, Trinity, the three-legged dog who did not exhibit Urchin’s generosity, but did have a charm all her own. Numerous other dogs and cats and monkeys.
Pay dirt in Bali: Shih-tzus!!! Chocko, the two-year-old shih-tzu who lives at one of my favorite Ubud restaurants, Savannah Moon, weighs about four pounds. His sister and mom, white dogs twice his size that resemble shih-tzus only slightly, and a Balinese street dog also live there. They seem like a very happy pack. Chocko is clearly the leader, rushing towards every stray that meanders up his street and barking like hell, chasing dogs 10 times his size and then returning to the restaurant to snuggle a customer. Kids and adults strolling by Savannah Moon, frequently call out, “Chockoooooo!” as they pass by.
“He’s very popular,” a waiter noted. “He’s famous!”
A cat I named Bali moved in with me at my family homestay. She’s a very sweet, affectionate Calico who’s also very smart. She’s already begun snuggling up to the family who owns the homestay, I assume in preparation for what she understands will be my eventual departure. The elderly man, Gustika, makes a big fuss about shooing her away when he sees me coming. But I’m on to him. I’ve caught him several times now napping on the couch in the front office, Bali curled into the crook of his arm.
