E
ver since City Limits has been appearing on New Delhi’s streets, I have been away. So it’s only very recently that I saw an actual physical copy of this column in print. That’s when I noticed the little graphic of person who looks much too cute to be me, holding an animal of some sort. Possibly a cat. Or maybe a rare variety of lemur, with stripes on its back rather than its tail. Whatever.
The time has come, however, to tear away the film of untruth that has lain for five months upon my public image: the fact is, I do not belong to any pets. I like
animals, but can’t face being responsible for their health and well-being. Even casual looking-after is more stress than I can handle.
For instance, the upstairs cat was left with us for three weeks while his owners were away. He’s a big handsome beastie, with thick silky fur and enormous canine teeth. He was on a course of medicines and had to begiven pills twice daily. Well! It took three of us to manage this task and left us scratched, bitten andtraumatised.
By the time his owners came back, the cat had grown sleek and huge, while I was a gibbering, cross-eyed wreck.