Confession #1: You know all those people who host birthday parties for their pets? With cakes, guests and all that jazz.... Hilarious, right? Well, I thought so too, till I found myself planning for my dog’s first birthday, two months in advance.

Not only did I spend an obscene amount of money buying things for him (some of which I was surprised to see we get in Calcutta, but more on that later), I harassed my friends into accepting the invitation a month in advance. Dobby got a cake — a Marble Cake from Cakes. And loads of gifts — all manners of doggy treats, from grilled lamb chewies to chicken sausages (specially made for dogs), bones of three different sizes, a rubber chicken, a frisbee (that he uses as a chew toy since he has no idea how to catch it), woollies... you get the drift.

I am ashamed to say that I have never spent so much money on buying a birthday gift even for my sister.

I know, someone is laughing at me right now, like I laughed at people like me. But I dare you to get a dog and then go without celebrating his birthday!

Lesson learnt: If you indulge him, you’ll have to pay. Mine was an early morning vomit-cleaning session. I am never going to let my dog overeat. Ever.

Confession #2: I have full-fledged conversations with my dog. And I don’t mean the “sit”, “stay”, “no”, “bad dog”, “good dog” lingo. They are proper conversations, which (I am convinced) he participates in. I often find myself giving him long lectures on the importance of being well-behaved and how he should act when we have guests. He usually whines, lets out short barks or tries to bat me with his paws. He communicates. I also end up asking him questions like whether he is hungry or wants to drink water or if he would rather go out and play. I am told the entire process sounds rather odd. I have a feeling that “odd” was not the first word that my friends/family thought of when describing the interaction.

Lesson learnt: Make sure you are on your own when you converse with your dog, if you want people to treat you seriously again, ever.

Confession #3: I never refer to Dobby as “my dog”, I call him “my son”. It confuses people and then makes them look at me either indulgently or like I’ve lost my marbles. Or, in the worst case, it makes them launch into lectures about how it’s high time I had a “real” child.

Lesson learnt: Just refer to your dog by his/her name. Makes matters infinitely simple.

Confession #4: I don’t like my dog cosying up to anyone else when it is time for bed. When friends stay over, my dog sometimes wants to bed with them for the night. I pretend it is okay. But then I get restless and get out of bed on various pretexts — drinking water, checking the locks — and make a lot of noise while I am at it so that Dobby rushes out to investigate. That is when I pick him up, carry him to bed and lock my door.

Lesson learnt: You become needy, your friends will laugh at you but a dog-mom’s gotta do what a dog- mom’s gotta do.

Confession #5: I feel an unhealthy glee when my dog bypasses everyone to greet me first. It is just the most awesome feeling in the world and I always gloat about it afterwards.

Lesson learnt: It might seem silly to some, but it is still an achievement. So be proud.

Confession #6: I have now become a sucker for all dogs, including the street dogs I used to studiously avoid (my dog is a street dog) ever since Dobby adopted me. So now I end up feeding two more dogs. One of then is pregnant and I am considering letting her stay in the garage so that when she has the litter they can be checked by a vet and vaccinated. Which means I may just end up being mother to a minimum of six dogs.

The other day I found out that a cat had a litter in the empty house next to mine. I considered adopting a kitten. My mother threatened to disown me.

Lesson learnt: Choose your battles wisely, you might end up getting thrown out of the family.