From a Thief

an old story by Ghetufool, edited by Vincent

This guy stands in front of me, refuses to budge. Such a deal is way too unprofitable and sort of undignified too. Five hundred rupees for this beautiful puppy? No way.
………….
It’s not so much the money. It cost me nothing as I stole it a couple of weeks ago, from a place many miles away. No one would guess it was “hot property” — stolen goods.
There were several big dogs to choose from, all exotic breeds. But the big ones are never easy to lure. They don’t fetch a good price either. And you can’t just carry them unnoticed!
All it had taken was a piece of dirty old bone to get this ball of fur almost jumping into my arms. Before anybody could notice, I put the puppy in my Shantiniketan bag, quickly crossed the road and disappeared into the crowd. The other dogs were still playing with a rag they’d discovered in their yard.
It was a perfect operation. A perfect theft. I’d spent nearly a week spotting the right moment to steal this little creature.

The house owner was a big shot in the locality. The company would send him a car to pick him up to his workplace. His household had many servants, even one dedicated to looking after the dogs. “That poor guy will be screwed,” I thought. “But, then . . . you survive by preying on others isn’t it?”

When I put down the bag and unbuttoned it, I found the puppy sleeping. I didn’t think of him as an “it”. He was the most beautiful creature I’d seen in my life. I didn’t think he was a “speech” – as we used to call a Spitz. His muzzle was heavier and the fur had a little hint of brown, with a coarser coat coming up later. Still, he was almost round as a ball. I took him carefully in my hand.
“So soft!” He rolled a little, opened his eyes. I dropped him on to my bed, whereupon he rolled back to me and licked my hand. He put his paw in my outstretched hand. He understood it wanted to be rocked. He took it in his hands.
There was a curve in his muzzle, it looked like a smile. My heart overflowed with joy. It reminded me of the day I first held my newborn child. So small, weighed only three pounds. She died a few days later
But there’s no use being sentimental about the goods you’re trading, I put this puppy on the floor in front of a fresh bowl of water. I’d never washed the bowl before, however many hounds had stayed in my thatched hut — but I cleaned it thoroughly this time

“What’s made me do this?” I said to myself, then quickly “This one might catch a good price in the market. And then I’ll have no money worries for couple of months, so it’s worth extra precautions. I lifted the puppy from a ‘good family’. Rich people will spoil their dogs, treat them better than domestic servants.” So I kept him on a lead, made from a piece of rope.
At night-time he started to whine, so I brought him to bed and held him close. He fell asleep instantly.
We stayed together for two weeks, giving his owner time for searching in all the Sunday pet-fairs.
……..
Back to today. I’m sitting with a crowd milling round, my puppy nervous, doesn’t want to stand surrounded so he jumps in my lap. This guy’s still refusing to budge, standing in front of me
“OK, how about eight hundred?”
“Nope.”
“Ok, if you can’t offer a reasonable price, go get yourself a crossbreed, there’s plenty to choose from.” I shrug and turn to someone else who seems interested. He wants to pick it up, have a good look for himself. So I let this man take a quick look, but take back my puppy back quickly. “What is there to check, can’t you see it’s a good breed?”
“What breed, then?” the man asks.
“Hound.”
“But hounds don’t have fur.”
“It’s a foreign hound!”
“How much you expect for this?”
“Fifteen thousand”. It’s a rule of thumb in these fairs to start by offering a tenth of the asking price. I’m hoping for a bit more than two thousand from this customer.
“Are you daydreaming, man? Tell me the right price. What about a thousand?”
“You are wasting my time sir. You are not fit for it.”
A small crowd gathers to see this business, it’s looking like an auction, Finally, somebody offers me two thousand five hundred. Wow, I wasn’t expecting this much. I stop to think for a moment: actually I ponder a lot. I put my puppy on the ground, stand with his back to him, as if I’m stiff after sitting for such a long time. When I step forward my puppy pulls at my lungi (something like a sarong). It’s a great game for him to bite it and be dragged skidding as I walk away. I pretend to give him a slap, which he returns with a growl and bared teeth. So the game goes on till I pat him kindly on the head, and say “Good boy!”
I turn and sit back down, letting him back into my lap as I pack my bag to leave.
“So how much do you want for it?” asks the customer.
“No you can’t have it. I have a better customer in mind.”
Then I pick him up and jump on a bus which goes past the house where I’d stolen my puppy.
We get off, then wait a while till there’s nobody looking. Then I slip my puppy back through the iron gate. He yelps at once. must realise it’s goodbye time.
Wiping a tear from my eye, I quickly cross the road to get back home.