There’s a big shortage of whey protein power in Bangalore. You know, the stuff we muscle-bound, body-building types need every day. GNCs, gyms, stores seem to be fresh out. Everyone’s working out, it looks like.
But our driver Manju is a clever chap and he’s made friends with a guy who knows someone who knows someone on Brigade Road. And somehow we got our stash.
I hear you asking, “Why do you both need it? You don’t look like you have a single muscle anywhere in your body. You actually look like floppy jellyfish.”
It’s to make special treats for Daisy, the little Princess of Milton Street, the doggie with the fur of velvet and the eyes of honey.
So it came as a terrible shock two days ago, that Daisy refused to eat her favourite treat, ‘Pwotein Bikki,’ as she calls them. Yes, Daisy can talk. At least to us.
PBs are Bangalore’s most expensive biscuits, made with aforementioned hard-to-find whey powder by my SO (Significant Other) himself. It’s the only thing he knows how to cook, since it doesn’t involve actual cooking, only 20 seconds in the microwave.
You can get PB powder in vanilla, chocolate and strawberry, but Daisy only likes chocolate, so that’s what we get. Mixed with butter and all-natural artificial sweetener, I’d say each ‘bikki’ works out to about Rs 250.
But we don’t begrudge the pooch with the key to our hearts, one or two or six bikkis, if that’s what she’s in the mood for. She likes them more than pork bones, if you can believe that.
So we were astonished when one very hot and hazy day, when nothing was stirring save the angry whirr of the fan overhead, Daisy walked in through the garden doors, side-stepping her favourite treat, she moved to the rear of the living room. There on the cool marble floor she circled three times counter-clockwise and flopped down wearily.
‘Ok, if she won’t come to the bikkis, the bikkis will go to her,’ I said to myself, and hobbled across the room on my crutches (yup, still have ‘em) and lay on the floor next to her, breaking the bikkis into little pieces so I could feed them to her bit by bit. I love the way her warm tongue and cold nose feel on my hand.
But Daisy turned her head away, her nose twitching a little, her mouth closed firmly. This was most unusual behaviour.
“Hey,” I yelled to SO who was making another batch of rare Pwotein Bikkis in the kitchen.
“She’s not eating the bikkis. Something’s terribly wrong. They must be poisoned. Dogs are very sensitive. Stop eating those bikkis at once.” I wailed.
SO is a rational man. He runs a large company and must have his wits about him. But he was puzzled too. Daisy had never turned away PBs before.
“Oh no. I just bought four jars of the stuff,” he said fighting back the tears, I’m sure. Thousands of rupees worth of protein whey would have to be flushed down the toilet.
But Daisy had spoken. And when she talked, we listened.
We gave Daisy a bowl of ice-cold water, which she lapped up happily and broke out the Diet Coke for ourselves. We sat down on the floor next to Daisy, a mournful trio, with no human or doggie treats between us.
“Let me call her mommy and tell her what happened,” I said sadly.
Daisy’s mommy lives on the top floor of our apartment building, and if it’s humanly possible to love Daisy more than I do, she does.
“Daisy is an amazing sniffer dog,” I started. “Maybe we should rent her out to the cops and she can be Detective Daisy.”
“What are you talking about,” cut in Daisy’s mommy, a busy woman who doesn’t have time to waste idle chitchat. I explained the situation about the PBs.
“Oh stop,” she laughed hysterically. “There’s nothing wrong with your Pwotein Bikkis at all. It’s the heat. She’s not eating anything. Dogs are like that. I hope you didn’t destroy the powder!”
The moral of this story is never judge a Pwotein Bikki by a pooch.
This article appeared in: http://bangalore.explocity.com/articledetail/Vex-&-The-City/Daisy-Gets-Pwotein-Bikkis/54226/105455