Dog Days and HIIT Drama

when cardio, chaos and cannine charisma collide !

There’s something about a dog.Those eyes — staring straight into your soul — liquid, molten pools of love. The warm nuzzles against your cheek, the unabashed joy when you return home… priceless.

For everything else in life, there’s plastic — notwithstanding your credit score.

I was watching a dog eulogy on my Instagram feed the other day and nearly welled up. Naturally, I hastily forwarded it to a bunch of fellow dog empaths.

Anyway, I should stop being so sanctimonious or I’ll never get this anecdote written. I have seven dogs, just so you know. In my neighbourhood, I’m that strange dog person — seven for now, and counting.

There are the three Shih Tzus — Coffee, the happy one; Shadow, with his perpetually pink tongue hanging out; and Fury, the alpha who cracks the whip even on the shepherds.

Then there are the two German Shepherds — Nico, the dopey one, and Heidi, the dainty.

And of course, Luca — the one who sleeps with the fishes, named after Luca Brasi from The Godfather — a sinewy, lean, muscled Malinois.

And now, there’s Scooby, the Golden Retriever — all of five months old and an absolute livewire.

And me? I’m the resident Don Corleone.

But for all their quirks and drama, sometimes they surprise you in ways that make you stop and marvel.

It was a wet afternoon in Coimbatore. My trainer had come over to train my son and me, and we decided to do a joint HIIT session — about twenty-five minutes, breaks included.

We were motoring through it — burpees, foot fires, mountain climbers, B-skips — the whole hog.

When suddenly, my German Shepherd, Nico, started to howl. Not just whine — howl. Inconsolably. At the trainer.

Now, this was odd. Nico loves our trainer. He usually bounds up to him every morning and gives him a peck on the cheek. This was completely out of character.

But every time we moved to a new variation, Nico would start up again — squeaking, howling, pacing like something was off. No amount of treats or “Shhh, Nico!” would work. He was being dramatic. Defiant. Difficult.

It got so bad that my dad came running out of his room, jolted from his afternoon siesta, to ask what in the good Lord’s name was going on.

Only when we stopped — after the ninth round, slumped to the floor — did Nico finally quiet down.

My trainer, a tall, strapping six-footer, national athlete, degree from the UK and all, looked at him and said,“I think he was telling me to stop. To go easy on you guys. Wow. This is unbelievable!”

And he wasn’t wrong. We were puffing and billowing like Puff the Magic Dragon the entire time. He felt us.Picked up on the energy. Read the room.

Atta boy.

I ran up to Nico, buried my nose in his fur, overflowing with love. Grateful that he’s part of our life.

To be loved so deeply, so wordlessly, so unconditionally — what a gift.

Life is richer, exponentially messier, and infinitely more joyful because of my Super Seven.

I write about what makes me smile… and what makes me toil.

 It’s a peek into my world — the chaos, the small wins, the big emotions… and the family that fuels it all.

 I am just rolling, flowing, roiling… through everyday life.

 If this made you smile or chuckle, come back on Tuesdays and Thursdays for more stories to sip with your chai latte… or coffee. Molecularly yours,

Sanjana

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