A Rottweiler’s multiverse

Before you judge the breed, think again

My name is Kaiser, and I am a Rottweiler who lives in Chennai. The person writing this on my behalf is dad, the leader of our pack. I am of German and Serbian stock, and my origins go back to Rottweil in Germany, a town founded by Romans in a cattle-herding region. I owe my large head and snout to the mastiffs I was bred from, and my intent watchfulness to my role as a guardian. Indeed, butchers would hang their purses around our necks to keep them safe.

To my family, I am an affectionate goofball, prone to sit on their feet unmindful of my size. I calm down to the meaningful Malayalam song Manushyan Madhangalai Shrishtichu by K.J. Yesudas, written by Vayalar Rama Varma for the movie Achanum Bappayum. That together with my penchant for tearing newspapers and disliking men in uniform has led dad to conclude that I must have been a left-leaning, chai-sipping newshound in my last birth (notice the oxymoron).

My greatest joy is my morning walk with dad, our “me time”. Because I am hyperactive (dad says ADHD), I am sensitive to my environment — joggers, people who look me in the eye, whirring cycles and mopeds, people sporting helmets, umbrellas, head-covers, my list is long. My usual response is to charge in the general direction of the offender, and after a few surprises (torn sleeves, falling men and himself included), dad muzzles and harnesses me for these excursions.

Here are a few classes of humans I meet every day.

The dogo-philic: they love us and want to play, little realising that I, Kaiser (that’s German for Emperor), do not care for trifles.

The dogo-phobic: I can spot them a mile away, but they cross the road to avoid us; no fun but no trouble either.

The dog-agnostic: folks who don’t seem to recognise “the dog walking”. Here I am, 45 kg, deep-chested, big-headed, putting on my best swagger, and they walk right into us, preoccupied with their phones, companions, or thoughts. Being agnostic of me is not really wise, methinks!