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The moth that covered my face!



My dog came prancing and dancing towards me, I started petting him almost impulsively, took his ears and rolled them over his head hither and thither, stroked his forehead, he was enjoying my attention blushingly perhaps, and he leant his head downwards and was swaying around to get the most of affection. And, suddenly he leapt forward with his hind legs brushing my knee cap, I looked over and he was merrily teasing a moth which apparently fell over on its back and was trying desperately to climb back into a more modest stand. Well, anatomically speaking, the moth had a curved back, smooth with shiny plate like outer skin that extended from front to rear forming quite an armour. It had tiny legs, it was just too hard to find out how many though, drawn so close to the body in a twisted tangled mess, it looked as if, the insect was bothering perhaps a little too much about its legs.

On any other occasion, the moth would have leisurely entertained me with its physical theatrics, but this was no ordinary situation. With my dog taking immense pleasure, who presently kept hitting the overturned moth with his front legs, one after other, and the poor but gallant moth drew its wings and legs together with every successive attempt my dog made. It used the time lapse between my dog's pawing him to open up its wings and attempt a tumble. The moth suffered through this interminable ordeal of time lapses growing exceedingly small with my dog panting heavily as it neared its exhaustion now.

then something happened, the moth ceased to attempt, it just gave up, this was a triumphant victory for my little doggy, for to achieve a success of this sort before his master, the conspicuous and effective portrayal of his raw energy at a time, which he must have presumed as a state of descent in the relation, is praise worthy. To my horror, as I noticed, my dog reached out for the moth with his nose, turned it over, and sniffed at it, first reluctantly, but later intensely, so much so that, I assumed that he would suck the moth in, and thereby choke his nasal passages. Then he stopped, and curiously enough, retreated, and repositioned himself beside me, squatted, extended his legs apart, stretched his body, did his usual physical exertion, and sat beside me never even losing sight of the moth, not even a wink, he pawed at me, as if begging for an explanation.

So, my dog adjudged the moth dead, not half dead, but merely dead and not worthy of meal. I did not question his majesty's powers of observation or his instincts or his tastes as far as his eating habits were concerned. I did not wish to come across as judgmental, so I left it to him, he must know better. He now seemed lost, he was licking his paws, my paws, and I thought the exercise was over. Well, I was wrong.

the moth twitched, and an observant dog would not have lost his sense of curiosity at a time like this, but my dog was out there in deep reveries perhaps, because he was staring at a blank wall, I never really liked that kind of staring, it was such a depressing thought to stare at a blank wall, my dog’s philosophical musings were at times perturbing, he must have had a bad day. I noticed that the moth was now in its full upright position, inexcusable blunder, how on earth did his majesty fall for this, I was about to summon him for testifying, when he got up and galloped a good ninety degree before bouncing mercilessly on the incipient flight of a crafty moth and gulped the bugger down. So my dog was after all keeping an eye on the cunning moth all the time, form the corner of his eye perhaps, for he looked lost for a moment there, staring at a blank wall.


at first I thought, my dog was performing an act of fatiguing indulgence, but this was a performance out of nowhere, presently he was munching heavily as the armory shell of the moth cracked between his razor sharp teeth, and he ascended on to the platform, a couple of steps above his usual sitting territory and waited there for me to walk towards him, and pat him, to acknowledge the victory, of agility over guile, of performance under pressure. I acquiesced, walked closer to him, closed my hands over his head, stroked his ears, all this time, I was aware that I was standing on the ground, while he was sitting on the platform at a good height so my face was close to his nose, he looked so affectionate, it was such a romantic moment, me and my dog, so close. Then, as if to exploit the situation, he sneezed and the pulverized remains of the moth's shell fell all over my face.



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