The sound of my mother's voice woke me from a rather extended afternoon nap.
"TuuN B***y (my nick-name) nu milan aaya aiN, ke dudh peen?"
(Have you come to see Sidhusaaheb or have you come to drink milk?)
Shortly, my friend Zakhmi appeared at the door of my room. I beckoned him over and he sauntered up to where I sat. After getting his ears scratched and his head patted for a while, he turned around and trotted away.
A few seconds later, he stood in the dining room, facing the kitchen, where my mother was, watching her with rapt attention. (He never enters the kitchen, because the old lady has told him not to.) Off and on, he would wag his tail a bit and then lick his lips as well, very expectantly. He appeared downcast, though, when my mother declared, "Hun tainu kujh nahi milna khaan-peen nu!" (You are not going to get anything to eat or drink now!)
He went off and parked himself on the the living-room floor, from where he had a clear view of the refridgerator. When I walked up to him, he turned himself upside down and offered me one of his fore-paws, which I shook vigorously. He seemed happy and even more so when I scratched his stomach. Although he was quite engrossed in playing with me, he stopped to watch carefully and to lick his lips, whenever my mother opened the refridgerator.
After a while, my mother changed her mind and offered him a slice of bread. He sniffed at it briefly and then settled down even more comfortably. A biscuit was met with a similar response, but as soon as she cut open a poly-pack of milk with a pair of scissors, he jumped up and then followed her outside, where his feeding bowl was.