The Special Cigar

After a hard day’s play, my friend Sid and I go back home, all the way from the park, rollerblading. My dog Yoda happily sprints by our side, usually.
Today, as I sat down on the park bench alongside Sid, to fasten my rollerblades firmly on my feet, Yoda seemed more excited than usual about our journey home. He kept jumping enthusiastically as though egging us to hurry up.

"Easy ol’ boy! What’s the matter with you?’ I said as I extended my hand to pet the large retriever. Sid looked on with his usual expression of contempt and incomprehension as I petted Yoda.

"How can you be so attached to a flea-bag mutt like him?"
Yoda turned his head to look offendedly at Sid. I laughed, "See? He’s so human!"

"If he’s human, I’m a kangaroo."

With that we got up and began skating towards my home. The euphoria of the speed, coupled with the rush of the wind against my face and hair- fed my teenage soul.

Skating next to me, Sid said, "Hey Al, your dad’s supposed to come home today right?"

"Yeah, father might be home already."

"Oh wow- what’s he getting you this time?"

"Dunno, depends- maybe he didn’t bring anything at all."

"Being in the Merchant Navy must be so cool! Where’d he go this time?"

"Romania."

"Ooooh! Wonder what he might have brought from there."

"If nothing else, then definitely a bust of some ugly ex- President of Romania."

"- or an expensive and ornate walking stick for that collection of his."

"- or maybe some cigars. Father loves cigars."

"- or maybe a gold-plated collar and leash for your clumsy cur!"

___________________________________________

"Hey mom! I’m home!"

"Good, go wash your hands and have something." Said mom emerging from the kitchen.

"Is father back yet?"

"Oh yes, and he went out too."

"Where?"

"He got a call from the office, so he left. He’d be back by tea time."

"Did he unpack? What did he bring for me & Yoda??"

"I don’t know, he did mention something- and I do think he began to unpack some stuff in the study- No, no, young man! Don’t you dare go blundering in your father’s study without his permission. Go wash your hands and have something first."

____________________________________

Not much time later, my curiosity got the better of me and I found myself creeping surreptitiously in my father’s study (followed equally surreptitiously by Yoda), without turning on the lights.

Near his writing desk, by the window, his suitcase lay open- revealing neat stacks of clothes and a couple of packages- the details of which I couldn’t make out clearly in the dark.

As I moved towards the suitcase to analyse its contents, my eye fell on a couple of things on the writing table, that my father had most probably extracted from the suitcase during whatever little unpacking he’d done before going.

A shiny silver carved paper cutter was lying next to a transparent case that held several singular looking cigars.

I picked up the cigar case and brought it closer to my eye for better view. ‘Hmm… golden- brown’. These didn’t look anything like other cigars that I’d ever seen. There were six of them and they sure looked precious. As I kept back the case, I was overcome by the desire to touch one of them and feel its surface. It seemed lighter than I’d expected and oddly rough.

I turned to face the mirror, for I wanted to see how it looked on me. But Oh! Woeful moment! As I turned, my foot hit the side of the suitcase completely unbalancing me- and the cigar flew from my hand.

Yoda, who was till now happily sniffing in another corner of the room, looked up when he heard me yelp- and on seeing something hurtling through the air in his direction, he jumped to catch it; like he’d always been trained to do.

But instead of holding it in his mouth, or keeping the cigar down, I saw him gulp and lick his nose contentedly.

Mortified I rushed towards Yoda. No, he wasn’t holding it. I scanned the floor- No, it certainly wasn’t dropped on the floor.

Panicking, I grabbed Yoda’s jaws and pried them open, peering inside. The poor dog’s mouth was just as a dog’s mouth should be (dog breath can kill you- so don’t try this at home).

Unable to get over the shock- I stared at Yoda in disbelief. Yoda stared back at me. "You big brute! You swallowed it! Father’s gonna kill me…", I muttered under my breath. Getting up from the floor, I grabbed Yoda by the collar and dragged him outside the study, hoping to exit as secretly as we had entered.

Mom had retired to her room and the kitchen was now deserted. I entred the kitchen and so did Yoda at my heels. "Now!", I turned upon Yoda with full fury; "You worthless animal! Retch it out!! Retch it out now!!". Yoda blinked innocently. "Yoda, my boy please!" I said beseechingly.

I got up and started massaging his ribs hoping this action to induce vomit. ‘What else can I do to make him puke? Give him water?’ No, I didn’t want the cigar to come out all soggy.

‘Who do I ask for help? Mom would surely kill me- she’d asked me not to go to the study,’ telling her was out of the question. ‘Sid!’ I grabbed my phone typed ‘cum over. big prblm’ and sent it immediately to Sid.


Fifteen minutes later, Sid and I were both sitting on the kitchen floor staring at the golden retriever (who was, nonchalantly, staring back at us).

"It went straight down, you say?"

"Yes." I replied glumly.

"So he didn’t chew it or anything?"

"Nope."

"Hmmm…" We were both thinking of the same thing. "He doesn’t look like he wants to puke."

"Yeah! That’s the entire problem!"

"But even if he does, it’ll come out all soggy and wet"

"We can dry it with Mom’s hair dryer or something- so that I can keep the cigar back without father’s knowing that I’d been to the study. I don’t care what becomes of the cigar, or whether Yoda keeps burping tobacco for a month; I just don’t want father to be mad at me."

"Let’s hang him upside down."

I looked at Sid irritatedly, "Can we talk about practical things here?"

"I remember someone saying that eating lots of margarine makes you puke. Do you have margarine at your place?"

"Hey, I’m sure we do!"


So another fifteen minutes later, we were still in the kitchen, having fed Yoda about half the margarine supplies in our groceries, we were looking for any visible symptoms of squeamishness. And to our disappointment, he was not showing us any.

He burped once, and our hopes arose; but he went on to lick his nose and continue to stare at us blankly. My exasperation rising, I shouted, "You ugly animal!! How can you do this?!"

"Let’s kill the dog and dismember him and get the cigar out."

"Oh c’mon, I don’t hate him."

"I still say let’s hang him upside down."

"Come on Sid! Be practical now! He’s never gonna throw up, and father’s gonna bury me alive. You know what he’s like. Why’d I ever go into that blasted study?!"

I had stood up in my agitation, but now I came to sit next to Sid, all hope ebbing away. The future seemed bleak, and finally I broke the silence, "Let’s hang him upside down."


The kitchen didn’t seem the correct place for such a ritual- so we went out to the deserted backyard , a reluctant Yoda in tow- the poor animal, most probably had a presentiment of our intentions, and thus seemed hesitant to follow us out.

"So how do we go about it? Do we need something?", said Sid.

"Uhmm…I dunno, let me think." I said giving methodical thought to the situation and the doubtfully analyzing the big and burly dog standing between me and Sid.

In our engrossment, we probably hadn’t heard father arrive, because he surprised us by dropping in on us in the backyard suddenly. "What are you boys doing here all alone? Won't you come in and have tea?"

After getting over the initial shock, Sid and I exchanged glances. Father didn’t look angry as yet. We began to drop our efforts and follow my father inside when he turned to me and said, "Oh, and did mom tell you?- I brought you and Yoda something. A regal looking pen set for you, which I hope will instigate love of writing in you. And for Yoda I brought a very special set of dog biscuits that look like cigars. It feels so hilarious to see a cigar sticking out of one’s pet’s mouth!"