RIP

My dog died last night. I never thought I would be the kind of person who would write about my pet dying, but here I am. My parents were crestfallen, they sat by her body the whole night and buried her on the banks of narmada in the morning.

She was a shriveled pup when she was brought to our house 7 years ago. My dad loved her from day one and so did my sister. My ma who has had experience with dogs before was of the opinion that it should be a master-pet relationship and discipline shouldn’t be compromised. When I was asked, I would list 100 different advantages of having a pet. That was it for me, a pet. Duties were assigned in the house about taking care of her ( I and my sister didn’t live in the city, we were both studying , so we weren’t given any, except the occasional helping around). Ma trained her really well, she never climbed beds, or other furnitures, had great sanitary habits ( read it as, never pissed or excreted in the house), even get her paws washed after coming back from the walk ( I still don’t know how Ma taught her that !! ). She defined roles of her own for us. Ma was the bread-giver, strict ,no-nonsense kind. I was a member of the family, who seemed no-nonsense and always kept a distance, Dad absolutely love her, she couldn’t live without him and my sister was this little kid in the house, who everybody loved and bossed around. I was most of the times a mute observer to how my family reacted to this dog and how it reacted back. Analysing and humouring myself that I was trying to learn some dog psychology or in turn human psychology.

Slowly and steadily I wasn’t too sure of myself anymore. I found myself getting attached to this canine inadvertently. One part of my brain said, it is just a pet, the other part could clearly see a personality in her. Whenever my dad dressed up and took out the car keys, she would jump around making a ruckus, clutching her belt in her mouth, as if pleading to take her in the car too. She loved occupying my mom’s seat in the car, that is right in the front, next to my dad. Whenever Ma used to “tell” her that my sister was about to return from the hostel, she would sit on the chair in the balcony, overlooking the road, as if waiting for her. And as soon as she spotted her on dad’s scooter or car, she would jump from her chair and rush down the stairs to greet her by jumping on her and licking her hand. She used to treat my sister as a kid, not really listening to her scoldings, daring to pinch away the food from her plate, but as soon as anyone of us tried scolding my sister, she used to bark out incessantly, as if protecting her. She used to get jealous if I and sister were spending a lot of time with my dad. She would keep her head in my dad’s lap or paw him to get his attention. She was the sole companion of my Ma, for months together when dad was out for work. Needless to say, Ma had softened a huge deal towards her. Overlooking her minor mistakes and sometimes even pampering her.

She seemed to have got some kind of uterus infection because she was losing a lot of blood and had stopped eating. During the last days, when the vet gave up all hopes, Ma used to try to feed her with a spoon, some milk or porridge. She had a peaceful expression on her face, when she died, Ma said.

I wish I was there. I don’t know how would have I reacted to see her dying in front of me. All I know is, it would be sad returning back home now, knowing that she wouldn’t be around to jump on me and lick my hand as soon as I enter those gates.

Rest In Peace.