Three Black Spots

Baby sitters

In the early seventies, when Ayesha was two years old, we lived in Beirut, and Naazaa was her babysitter. Every time we left home, Ayesha would let off these blood curdling screams, each a dagger through our hearts. One day, we went to the lift, tiptoed back, and stood listening outside the door. No noise, no whimpering. From that day on, we were able to leave with only minor pangs of guilt.

The baby sitting ritual for Yoda is somewhat similar. He sees us getting dressed, and he knows that he’s not going out. Mina than goes up to him and has ‘the chat’. The sitter arrives, and he checks her out. We move towards the door, and his tail goes down. We open the door, and he sits down in a ‘woe is me’. We say goodbye to him, and he turns his face away. We suffer a few pangs of guilt as we leave. We know that when we return he will greet us rapturously.

Once we decided that Yoda was not to be left alone, we needed to find baby sitters in every city. In Bombay we had Jayanand, but he could not travel everywhere with us.

The 29^{th floor of our apartment building in New York was ruled by three striking sisters from Chile who ran the laundry and other services. Rosanna became our maid, and she loved Yoda as deeply as she loved her designer boots from Century 21. Her son Julio loved to ‘borrow’ Yoda and take him to the park. He claimed that Yoda was the best babe magnet ever. I felt we should charge him a fee every time he took the pooch.}

Hotels were another matter. In every hotel we would call the concierge in advance and ask for a baby sitter for our dog. We never had much success. The concept did not compute with most of the babysitters they spoke to.

A maid from housekeeping in Cleveland transformed our babysitting life. She said that she would put the word out with her colleagues, and see who wanted to earn a little extra money. In the next 30 minutes we had two candidates. We never looked back.

Hotels have a bustling city behind the scenes, full of people ready to moonlight. So each time, we would not talk to the concierge, but to housekeeping. We had a simple proposition. The sitter should love dogs, and just stay put in the room. No need to walk Yoda. No need to feed him. Just watch TV and if you get hungry, order some Room Service. Who could say NO. I want a job like that!

We have had this wonderful parade of people who came into our lives. Some of them stand out.

We were in a martini drinking phase. And we had just seen the movie ‘Auntie Mame’. Drop a few drops of vermouth into the glass, swish, swish, toss, and pour the vodka. Add the olives, and pretty soon, we were both shaken and stirred. Our babysitter arrived, and we offered her a martini. George arrived and we offered him a martini. As we left, George said ‘Way to go Mohan. Get the sitter hammered, before we leave’. ‘ No martini today?’ was her question the next time she came.

The Barcelona sitter’s mother had discovered a swamiji somewhere in India, and had taken to going off on pilgrimages to his ashram with a whole gaggle of her friends. Her husband was left behind, fulminating. Every once in a way he would get slightly demented calls from her, usually asking for money. It’s wonderful to have a loving one back home, and Western Union where you are. The sitter showed no interest at all in visiting India. Having a mother go AWOL can have that effect. However she was great with Yoda, and took him walking on the waterfront. Her voice sounded like a foghorn and she honked at us - ‘He peed like a horse’.

Yoda has had a couple of men sitters. Melvyn was a maintenance engineer, all man, rippling muscles, subtle tattoos and a great bedside manner with Yoda. He would drawl ‘Hiya pooch’ as he swept him up in his arms. Yoda went happily, and did not give us the abandoned orphan routine.

Paolo was a handsome Bilbao man, who had obviously partied hard the night before. He told us that he went to sleep on the sofa, right after we left, and Yoda slept with him all the time. ‘First time I have earned money for sleeping’ was his comment as he bade Yoda fond farewell.

Nikhil is his most beloved sitter. A tall young man, about to finish college, Nikhil babysits Yoda for us in Bombay, mostly as a matter of filial duty. He is my nephew. He usually lands up armed with his flash drive, and works on our computer, or watches the latest episodes of CSI on video. Yoda sits at his feet, and looks up adoringly at him. When its time for Nikhil to leave, Yoda does a mad dash to the door, as if to stand there and say ‘ Buddy, I ain’t letting you go’.

Stand up comics have a standard routine about Kubler Ross’s 5 stages of how we deal with death. Anger, denial, bargaining, depression, and finally acceptance. Yoda’s take on being left with babysitters is similar. Betrayal, rejection, desolation, abandonment, and finally rapture, each time we return. Works for us