Some said he was creepy, others swore that he was dangerous and a few, who had high tolerance levels considered him very naughty. Tutu, a mischievous boy by virtue, enjoyed having fun at the cost of others. His favourite objects of amusement included children, dogs and cats, whom he thoroughly enjoyed irritating . Whisky, Tutu’s close friend, Niti’s dog, was one of his consistent victims.
Tutu would take along a long stick whenever he went to Niti’s place and poke Whisky with it. Though Whisky was ferocious, well built and agile, he was chained during most of the day and could never go after Tutu. Whisky only growled angrily at Tutu and always attempted in vain to threaten the laughing boy performing his victory dance. As time passed, Tutu got innovative with his tricks, he would hit Whisky with a rubber ball, catch it on re-bound and hit him again, he some times enticed Whisky by showing cream biscuits, which Whisky loved, ate them before Whisky and threw empty packets at him and so on, most actions sadistic and mean. Tutu’s annoyance capabilities got better by the day and whisky’s frustration mounted with every one of his visits.
That cloudy Christmas noon, Niti invited Tutu and other friends for lunch at her house. More than the lunch, Tutu was very excited about irritating Whisky. With a smile on his face, new toy gun in one pocket and ball bullets in the other, Tutu opened the gate to Niti’s house. Whisky was at his usual spot, next to the kennel, having his meal and instantly looked in Tutu’s direction with angry eyes. Taking his own time, Tutu chambered two balls into his gun and aimed at Whisky when he realized that something was amiss, Whisky’s chain was missing.
Whisky bolted towards Titu, ignoring the pain from the impact of the bullet balls on his leg and head. Recognizing the gravity of the situation, Tutu flung the gun at Whisky in a desperate effort and started running towards the door of the house. He could not go too far though, Whisky’s sharp teeth dug into his left buttock and Tutu shrieked. Taken aback by the loud sound, Whisky paused for a few seconds, which allowed Tutu to get to the door. To Tutu’s bad luck, the door was locked and he raced up the stairs to the left, Whisky at his heels. The stairs led to a large terrace with two rooms under construction. Zig Zagging through the wood and materials thrown all over the place, Tutu got to one of the rooms and jumped over the half constructed wall, just escaping Whisky’s closing jaw.
Whisky tried to climb over but the wall was too high for him. “Thank God,” Tutu mumbled as he squatted and picked up a piece of wood to shove Whisky away. Standing straight, the wooden piece in one hand and the other hand on his injured buttock, Tutu peered around only to find Whisky missing. Assuming that Whisky was gone, Tutu breathed a sigh of relief and turned around to find Whisky right in front of him. Whisky had squeezed through the barricade placed before what would be a door way without making the slightest sound.
Face to face, Tutu and Whisky looked at each other, Tutu with absolute fear and Whisky eager for another bite of revenge. Time seemed to stop for a few seconds for both as they contemplated on their next move. Making up his mind, Tutu raised the piece of wood slowly and ominously on the top of Whisky’s face and Whisky took a couple of steps backward, assuming an aggressive stance. Just then, they heard a dog bark and Whisky looked in its direction, circumspection all over his face. It took Whisky just five seconds to make up his mind and he was gone in a flash, leaving the battered Tutu behind. When Tutu finally walked out with the piece of wood still in his hand and peered out, he saw Whisky playing with another bull dog at the gate. Niti, his friend was talking to the owner of the dog, totally unaware of Tutu, who slowly climbed down and made his way to the safety of the house.