Ruff’s house

A few days back I was having conversation with a friend who had returned to Delhi for a brief visit.

“So where do we meet?”
“You tell me. What about the mall near the Rajouri Garden Metro Station? ”
“Howw come? Where are you staying?”
“I’ve shifted back to Karol Bagh”
“Oh, so you back in Ruff’s house.”

Ruff of course was my pet dog who is no more but hopefully continues to sleep at the TV room in doggy heaven only to wake up to have his grub or to take a leak. I never thought my flat was identified as Ruff’s house. Maybe that's how he would have it in his autobiography.

Then again, I can imagine conversations Ruff might have had with dogs when he went out for a walk.

“Where do you stay?”
“That house, over there. Third floor”
“Do you have cable TV?”
Surprised look on Ruff’s face.
“Yes, don’t you?”