Ouch! (Un)dogged

Reflections

I did not want to reach home before 6 pm. I knew I was taking the escapist route, but I had no choice. For, the volunteers from People for Animals were coming to take away two of our most loved ones. If I manage to reach home late, I will not have to witness their departure.

I did not want to let them go. Brownie and Bush. Our two dogs. As dear to us as our children were. Brownie was the mother, and Bush, the son.

The way our children handled the two Bs was an eye-opener for us, parents. But practical problems were too many. After the episode of Brownie running away, it was decided that she should never be let loose, especially on the grounds.

That literally sealed her fate for the next 12 years. Up went she to stay put in the terrace on the first floor of our house. Perhaps we were the only family in the vicinity to have sacrificed the income from rent for the sake of a dog. The prancing doggy steps could be heard in the stillness of the night, a reassurance that she had not run away. She was a shrew, never to be tamed.

Bush was just the opposite. Very loving and soft. He would put out his paw to you and snuggle against you. He was an expert in emitting a grunt that almost sounded like ‘Amma’. One could never get angry with him for long. He would hang his head in shame, looking furtively at you with those soulful eyes. And the most positive thing about Bush was that even if you kept the gate temptingly open and asked him to leave, he wouldn’t.

Quite unlike his mother!
Our children grew up and left our nest, but the two Bs kept us busy. When my daughter was home for her first delivery, the way Bush behaved would put to shame even a well-brought up child. He would go near her, sniff her, and extend his paw to her.

When she took her afternoon nap, he would be very much there, lying under her sofa. Even with my little grandson, he was very considerate. When the little boy came visiting us, Bush never even stepped into the house. It was as if he was afraid of scaring the toddler, even that wee bit.

However, with each passing year, with no younger lieutenants at our command, it was becoming difficult for us to take care of the equally ageing Bs. Also, there were not many dog shelters around where we could leave them when we wanted to go out of town.
It was a tough decision for us to make. To ask People for Animals to take them away. The feeling of guilt was unbearable. ‘Life’s like that’ was what we told ourselves. The philosophy of karma, soul, life and death became convenient excuses for us and we tried to console ourselves saying that we were putting them in comfortable homes.

Still, in my heart of hearts, I knew that we were hypocrites, with no milk of humanity in us. Now, as I made my way home, I knew that the journey Brownie and Bush were undertaking was only one way — there would be no return journey this time.

As it turned out, I was just there in time to see Bush and Brownie leave in the van for their final destination. Bush kept on looking at me with a plea in his eyes (or, was it my imagination?) whereas Brownie was her usual indifferent self.

 Those eyes still haunt me. I still hear the doggy steps on the terrace, breaking the silence of the night. The night I saw the film Hachiko, I cried like hell, cursing myself for that voice of education and reason, which has taught me to cleverly bury all those soul-searching thoughts and questions in the dark pit of logical reasoning.

There is only one reason to do a right thing whereas there may be a hundred and one reasons to do a wrong thing. We chose the latter. Sorry.