My Bloody Valentine

I'm a little worried about the recent developments. Boka has become quite a rogue. He has started attacking without provocation. But that's not exactly what I am worried about. Although he was responsible for it, to a large extent.
The last person he attacked was a totally harmless chap who had walked into the room unsuspectingly, while swigging some beer. All he did was bend down (to kiss the dumb mutt), and even before the deed was done, there was blood and dog drool all over the white carpet. Of course, we laughed the matter away. The guy was zonked; didn't really know what to do. I was more worried about the carpet being messy with bloodstains. But I have to give it to the guy; he carried on unflinchingly. But we didn't what to do till I saw the dog licking the blood off the carpet.
So I tried dragging this intoxicated creature across, to the bathroom. But he just wouldn't fit. Yes, he was quite big. And so I had to pull his arm inside the bathroom and leave the rest of him wailing outside. The wound was quite deep. The fucker had plunged his fangs deep inside the poor chap's forearm. Now if I havent told you before, I'm quite revulsed by the sight of blood. So while there was a torrent gushing forth, out of his 2 inch deep gash, I struggled to breathe. There was too much blood to handle. Which was surprising, because after all, it's only a dog bite. After around half an hour, and after shedding enough blood to see a hospital unit through, it looked as if I'd just killed someone and used the bathroom to chop the body into pieces.
Anyway, the ideal thing to do was to apply a tourniquet. Which appeared in the form of a roll of toilet paper. Well, I used almost all of the toilet paper to wrap his arm tightly. But even this assistance was short-lived. The blood reemerged, first as a speck, then a dot, then a blotch, then a huge fucking map of Asia. And it didn't just stop there. Had there been a continent bigger than Asia, it would've looked like this stain.
Well, the next thing I knew, it started dripping. Yes, the toilet paper starts to drip blood. Which really took my breath away, but also made me a little worried. Why? Well hey, how would you react if you were in outer space and saw the earth drip water? And each drip was adding to the pool of blood already collected on the floor.
Basically, everything was spiraling out of control. But I was glad I thought of the phrase, because it told me exactly what to do. And soon enough, I was at the bottom of the problem. I gently unplugged the drain plug. There was a sudden pause, as if the blood saw it's end had come. And with an angry glare in its stream, it hissed violently. I didn't give up. I chose to stay in the bathroom and see the blood go down the drain. There was a lot of blood splashing, till all I could see was red. But well, fate had other things stored in for us. The bloody thing started coloring my bathroom walls red too. This got my goat. I resorted to...er...my final resort. I swept the floor wiper off its feet and started using it in powerful, wide strokes all over the floor. The blood was slightly taken aback. But you know what, the fucking door was open. And soon enough, the blood spilled onto my bedroom, briefly pausing at the doorway to take a last look at its former owner lying half-dead on the floor.
Now things had really gotten out of control. Even before I could collect myself, all the blood had disappeared. I thought it had taken the balcony route to escape. How wrong I was. I checked the balcony. No sign of blood. I came back to the room, and my jaw fell to the ground. There it was, the ugly thing, looking all fresh and perched high up. Well not all that high up, but basically beyond my reach. The fucking thing had saturated one of my walls with it. It's still there. I can show you pictures also.

It’s difficult to believe that the pet who greets you when you return home is actually a wolf in dog’s clothing. Now I mean no offence to those of you who treat their dogs like family and would rather spend the evening playing with him than go out for a drink, though such love is hard to find. Human beings and chimpanzees share 98 per cent of their genotype. But dogs and wolves are genetically almost indistinguishable, with the similarity being 99 per cent. Of course, there is a sea of difference when it comes to the behavioural pattern, where both have fundamental traits that make a wolf a wolf and a dog a dog. Much has been said about the companionship between dogs and humans. The prehistoric man and the vicious wolf have had tens of thousands of years of history between them. The wolf moved on with man in the evolutionary cycle, to produce fascinating results for us to see. It is amazing to see how physically-distinct-but-so-genetically-similar a Chihuahua and a Great Dane can be. But then, at the risk of sounding objective (everyday observation), I believe that a dog brought up in isolation from his canine folk is bound to retain his lupine instincts. Take the case of Boka, my ingrate cur, rescued from the streets two years ago and shunned from any social contact with other dogs. He is definitely a wolf in dog’s clothing. Now I don’t obviously mean it in the bad sense of the term. Lately, I’ve realised that the mutt just doesn’t bark. Something so true of wolves, who rarely ever bark. All his attempts at barking just produce a feeble “wuff” instead of the machine gun like ‘row row row’ we are so accustomed to hear from dogs. And when left alone, he starts howling, so much so that the neighbours now threaten to go to the cops if I don’t put an end to it. Now how do you explain it to them that the poor dog is just trying to call out to his pack members? Just like the wolves do when they want to signal something or need to pin-point their location in the jungles. Adding to my worries is the fact that the dog now thinks he’s risen to the rank of a pack-leader and doesn’t let me on the bed when I return from work. He probably wants to oust me from the den and usurp my role as the hunter-gatherer. But what's worrying us a great deal is that it's been happening every night now. It's almost like he gets into a tic and is torn between being ferocious and subservient. His deep guttural growls are interspersed with fleeting moments of nervous tail wagging, implying that he is aggressive by default, but will be considerate if I only speak to him softly. This is quite surprising because all his life, he has been extremely servile, even to the point of pissing in gratitude. So I’m on the lookout for a dog shrink. And if matters don’t take a turn for good, I might look up one for myself.