Never expected that my wife would love someone other than I, and so passionately at that.
Always took it for granted that I have the lion’s share of her attention and love.
Two children came by and the love did not diminish.
And as it often happens in real life, I brought my competitor home.
Did not know he would usurp me one day or would occupy her life so comprehensively!
Her life revolves around him, nowadays.
And she flaunts her affection blatantly.
Even in the presence of guests.
He is the first thing that she reaches out to in the morning.
She plans her day around him.
I do not feature anymore in her plans.
He, for his part, is no less blatant in ensuring that she gets the full attention.
He plays the emotional angle to garner her entire attention.
He is blessed with such beautiful, philosopher eyes. It is impossible not to melt under his innocent “please love me” look.
A schemer, he encroached all common grounds and the coup d'état was when he confidently slipped into our bed, one night.
After that night his position was a given and I had no say in whether he could share our bed or not.
Both of them were living happily, as it can happen only in Hans Christian Anderson tales, until one day he was diagnosed with an ailment and had to undergo a surgery.
That was the moment I realized that I was loving him as much as she was.
Our combined world collapsed.
The day of the surgery was nerve wrecking.
His return from anesthesia was slow and he was completely disoriented.
It was difficult to handle him as he is a full grown male and on the heavier side.
We cursed ourselves for calling him heavy as he lost 20% of his body weight over two weeks.
The second night after the surgery was a real nightmare. He was throwing up an unbelievable amount. The living room was akin to a swimming pool.
He was all skin and bones.
Food did not interest him.
He was always hungry but would not eat.
Could not eat, actually.
It was becoming routine for us to start our dinner, pile food on our plates, take a few mouthful and dump the dinner into the garbage can.
I was making four phone calls a day from my office, just to inquire about his health.
The regular visits to the hospital, the endless IV drips, a last minute resort to administering steroids, canned food replacing his regular diet were all taking its toll on our health too.
All the hospital staff fell to his charm too.
At the end of it all, he has started to recover his zest for life.
His intake improved.
He is now slowly getting back to his original self.
I do not mind his presence in the bed anymore.
Scooby, our two and half-year-old boxer, is almost normal and hopefully will be back to his original condition soon.
There is a race now between my wife and me to win him over.
And I stand no chance.