Lorre Weidlich -- Hyde Park Foreign Affairs Desk
This is the latest in an on-going series of reports by Hyde Park's well-traveled friend and neighbor, Lorre Weidlich.

Meanwhile Back In Bangalore:
The Misadventures of Sangeeth, Nimesh, and Brigid

B efore I left for Kerala, I made careful arrangements for the care of my dog Brigid and my cat Natasha. Sangeeth would care for them for the first few days, until he left for Finland to consult with Nokia about our project. After that, Savithri would feed the cat and Nimesh would take the dog to his apartment. When I returned, I would give Nimesh a call and he would return the dog to me. I left a key with Sangeeth, compiled a list of instructions and phone numbers, and set the fan in my apartment on low to keep the animals comfortable.

    A few words about my dog are in order. Brigid is the world's only agoraphobic dog. She prefers to be inside and only goes outside under duress. She's also a nervous dog. If she feels threatened, she snaps. Only when the leash is attached to her collar does she know the situation is beyond her control and acquiesce. Because she had met Sangeeth and spent a night in Nimesh's apartment, I thought she would be comfortable with them. I also told Sangeeth and Nimesh a trick to attach the leash: wrap your hand in a towel and use that to grab her collar.

    When I returned, I walked in to find Brigid in the apartment, the floor covered with doggie pee, the fan on high, and my couch standing on end. The animals were perfectly healthy and Brigid was happy to see me, although Natasha hid under the covers on the bed. I was baffled and called Savithri. She had never been to the apartment. When she called Sangeeth to get the key, he had told her that the animals were getting used to himself and Nimesh and he thought it was better not to introduce any new people into the situation. She wasn't quite sure what had gone on.

    Thank god, floors in India are marble. I mopped. And mopped. And mopped. After three times, I thought I had the situation under control. I put my couch back into its normal position. Later that evening, I talked to Nimesh. He had never been able to get the dog to his apartment because until the last day she had refused to let him leash her. But there was much more to the story than that.

    It began on day one. Sangeeth walked out of our work area on the seventh floor and entered the walkway that surrounds the atrium in the middle of the building, swinging the key blithely around his finger. The key spun off his finger, skidded along the floor, and took a suicidal, seven-story, leap off the edge of the walkway. Could he find it? Would it be intact? Or would my animals starve to death before I returned