It starts with my brother bringing me a canine bully(dust colored puppy) in a small shoe box and ends with a full-grown 20 kgs dog taking up my single bed with no shame. Bhai had already given her name. Apparently, he looked down at his shoes and said “okay! I’ll name her Nike”. Yes! Nikee! And to this date, I hear painfully lame jokes about my dog’s name, like, “Arey! Nikee tou meray pairo mein hai.” Or “Nikee kyu? Addidas ya Puma kyu naam nahi rakha?”
I couldn’t pet her because I was petrified of dogs at first and I am positive that she could sense my fear even before she learned how to walk straight. She took complete advantage of that by never letting go of a chance of chasing me while barking until I got up on the highest chair that I could find in my house, yell for my brother, who had to come and carry her to another room. Technically, that was the first time I was bullied by my dog. A two-month-old puppy versus a twenty-one-year-old girl. Since then that’s how it has been, coming home to a tsunami of tissue papers, broken broomsticks, headless stuffed toys and Nikee sleeping in a puddle of her own pee while a headband that she was chewing on was STILL in her mouth.
So you love her unconditionally, give her good meals, play with her, take her on walks and drives but she’ll still wreck your house and pee all over because you won’t take her to Ayesha khala’s wedding or family dawats.
That was another problem, peeing on literally any and everything in her sight, so I learned this trick from a YouTube channel that you should take your dog to the loo after every hour for a couple of days and that’s how they’ll learn where you have to do your ‘business’. I was on that mission like white on rice and by that time I was brave enough to pet her and pick her up so this task looked easy. Hallelujah!
By the end of the day she had learned to run towards the loo each time she saw me come near her so as a reward, I picked her up, hugged her and told her how much I loved her until she PEED ON ME. This little scamp saw an opportunity to torment me and emptied her bladder on me.
This went on for about a week. Every night, before her bedtime, like her ritual but she eventually stopped when I dried her with a hairdryer after cleaning her up, that’s when I realized she hates dryers. This became my go-to revenge plan for all her little mischiefs:
- Locked room so no one can go out or come in to save her.
- A hairdryer and
That came in handy when she acted like a brat and would refuse to go home after her walks or do what she was told to do. All I had to say to her was “Nikee, dryer lau?” and that would activate her obeying soldier mode.
But the terror of this phrase does not work when it comes to food. Every time she hears a delivery man dropping off my food order, she has to get to the door before me, inspect everything that I ordered and wait patiently for me to share some with her. This disciplined version of Nikee is as rare as a rocking horse crap! However, I once made a mistake of leaving a burger on my bed, unsupervised! I came back to an empty plate, her guilty puppy-dog-eyes and a sluggishly wagging tail. I roared at her, “BADTAMIZZZ! YOU ATE MY FOOD?!” and she snuck under the bed as fast as she could, giving me no time to punish her or to even comprehend how she ate an entire burger within thirty seconds. Since then I’ve learned to order two of whatever I eat.