Brothers and sons

I think it's time you met my family. Just. It may give you an idea of how little I like people, and how much wisdom I gather from my brothers and sons. For instance, none of the five below will read a human being as wrongly as I do a lot of the time. A lot. They have instincts, I don't. I get it. But still. It's worth aspiring.

When I grow up I want to be any one of them. Okay, maybe not Bruce.

Somu. 12 years old. Tough, muscular, strong and silent. Lover of understated affection and brittle slices of old bread. Has the most ominous growl ever bestowed on a Dacshund, and knows it. My oldest, wisest and most favoured brother.


Hyder. 9 years old, I think. Whatever they say about nice guys is true. Gets bullied by most other dogs. Is a firm believer in the old Canine saying, "If you hide face, rest assured that Scary Dacshund cannot see rest of body either. Whimper." Like to sit at the dining table and be fed papaya out of a bowl. There is a firm belief in the Nandyala household that Hyder doesn't know he's a dog.


Bruce. 5 years old. Or something. Loves only Food and Mother in this whole world. Has recently found out that he is obese. He now has a "trainer"- a skinny boy who the vet sent- who takes him out on two-kilometer walks each morning. Enjoys listening to the author sing Geeta Dutt hits, while falling asleep. NOT, as it turns out, Janis Joplin.


Foucault. Almost 5 months old. Mamma's boy. Lives on love and cable television. Enjoys watching The Simpsons and taking a big friendly bite out of Bonzeaux's ample tail.


Bonzeaux. Almost 5 months old. Foucault's twin brother; fraternal. Is the feline version of Uncle Bruce, food-wise. Once ate a whole fish, a leg of chicken, puppy food and a glass of milk for dinner, when he was four months old. Seen here with a bust of his father figure, Garfield. Climbs curtains, walls, and lighting fixtures for exercise.