I walk a lonely road

An excerpt from Rachna Chhabria’s new book ‘Buddy the Scavage’. It tells the story of a dog which was abandoned by its owners duringthe pandemic

Rachna Chhabria. Credit: Special arrangement

Strange sounds buzzed in my ears. I was unable to open my eyes, heavy with sleep.

With tremendous difficulty, I pried my eyelids apart. A small dark cloud hovered before me, blurring my view of the approaching creatures. It emitted a humming sound that momentarily distracted me. Within a few seconds, the dark cloud dispersed, as the group of flies circling my body found other objects of interest. A lone fly hovered near me silently.

As my eye-to-brain coordination improved, I recognized the creatures.

Frissons of fear sliced through my body as they neared me. I sent frantic pleas to both my brain and body. But they refused to come to my aid; neither did my brain think up an escape plan nor did my legs help me run away.
‘Woof, woof, WOOF, WOOF.’ The frantic barking of dogs filled the air.

My body was gripped by a strange lethargy that had turned my bones into a mass of useless jelly that wasn’t taking the threat of the dogs approaching me seriously. My eyelids drooped under the weight of sleep that refused to leave its hold over me.

As a blast of foul air assailed my nostrils, I looked around groggily, grimacing at the sight and smell of the garbage heap nearby. What was I doing on the road? And that, too, alone?

The pink mask my ten-year-old mistress Tanya had put around my face had, as usual, slipped. Now it was hanging at my neck. Dadi, Tanya’s paternal grandmother, had made it, embroidering a brown ‘B’ in satin on one side. Tanya and I usually twinned in these masks. Hers had a ‘T’ embroidered in satin. ‘B’ for Buddy, a name Tanya had bestowed on me, telling Dadi excitedly that I would be her forever buddy.

As realisation seeped into my dazed mind that my pet parents had abandoned me, my heart sank, my mouth felt dry.

I hastily removed that triangular piece of cloth, my protection from the virus, which had wreaked havoc all over the world, causing widespread deaths, choking up hospitals, overwhelming the healthcare system, turning people’s lives topsy-turvy.

Earlier, every time I wore it, I preened near the other dogs, lapping up their envious look at my pampered lifestyle. Now, the same mask was a source of discomfort, a cruel reminder that my human masters had left me on the road like a bag of garbage at the first sign of trouble.

Tears filled my eyes. I blinked furiously, I didn’t want the other dogs to see me crying. I could do that in private, later. The moment I closed my eyes, Tanya and Dadi’s image hovered in my vision. Both were reluctant to let me go, but under pressure from Tanya’s parents, Mrs and Mr Mehra, they were left with no choice. I had heard the arguments, seen Dadi and Tanya sulking. They had fought for days to keep me, but in the end they were helpless.

I couldn’t blame them. Neither had a source of income through which they could sustain me. And with Mr Mehra losing his job due to the pandemic, money was tight.

There were also rumours doing the rounds that animals were carriers of the Covid-19 virus. Many pets had been abandoned during the first and the second wave that had India in its grip.

All day long Covid news played on the television, lapped up by Tanya’s parents. The lack of oxygen cylinders and hospital beds, the high positivity rate, the announcement of another lockdown.

‘WOOF,’ the guttural growl did the trick.

My eyes snapped open. As my thoughts dispersed, I blinked at the sight of scruffy looking dogs surrounding me.

Street dogs. With scars and bruises. With fierce scowls on their faces.