Posted on June 24, 2007 - by rdilipk1

A never-ending wait

My family had immense love for animals, mostly dogs. In your daily life you see a lot of people who are not so. For them this faithful canine is a useless birth. A short story I wrote when I lost my dear pet..

It was drizzling that day, though the monsoons were yet to come knocking. The drizzle had made the weather a bit cooler and pleasant, though the sun was trying its level best to come out of the clouds. Faces were lit with smiles, rather a relief from the burning hot weather it was a few days back. I parked my car and stepped towards my apartments when the guard told me, “Sir, be careful, there”s a stray dog under the stairs of your apartment. I have called the sweeper to get rid of it. Be careful that it does not bite. I nodded my head and walked and as I neared the stairs, I could hear the growl of a dog, angry at someone coming to drive it out. I peeped to look at who this un-invited guest was and found a small, furry creature, wet in rain, shivering. A combination of black and white and the division of color was so artistic that one would feel as if somebody has painted it. The face had a clear half in black and the rest in white.

The first look made it apparent that it was not a street dog. Some wealthy rich man had gifted it to his children, because all the toys in the world were inadequate and then one day when the child felt it was enough, he threw it out of the house. I stretched my hand out and called him and surprise at it was, the growling creature started wagging its tail, slowly got up as if a shy model and walked towards me. I patted its back and ran my fingers through its fur and it sat beside me. Inquisitive as I was to know if it is a dog or, a bitch, I discovered that it was a bitch. “Poor thing”, I thought to myself. I called the guard and asked him not to drive her out and let it be there, the guard nodded and left. She was there, standing next to me looking at me, wanting to thank me for what I did. As I went up the stairs she stood there watching and then walked into her new found shelter.

Days passed and the society fell in love with her, a pet for the society, she was named “Moti” as every dog is called. People fed her and the ones returning from office cajoled her as she was there welcoming them everyday, though there were a few who professed otherwise. Dog-bite, rabies, injections and the list would be never-ending. Suddenly one day she was nowhere to be seen and I was a bit worried. Though there was no way I could go out looking for her, I prayed that she come back. And then one day, I saw her. She was not alone, but had a companion – a dog from the neighborhood. They were happy, playing and running around and I thought, “That is how it is, when we human can disown our parents, what are animals”. But she was happy and I felt relieved.

After a few days, as I was leaving for office I heard a sound under the stairs and there she was, again back to her shelter. Probably the good days were over. A few more days passed and I came out of my room because of the noise the children were making and I could hear them shouting, “Puppies, puppies”. I walked down the stairs to check what was happening and realized that the children had gathered around our stairs. As I came down, I heard a growling sound and knew it was her. I asked all the children to get off the place and peeped under the stairs. It was a pleasant surprise. There she was feeding her puppies; they were two exactly like her. She started wagging her tail as if granting me the permission for inspection. I went back and my thoughts rewound to the day she was first seen there. “God has a purpose to everything”, I thought to myself.

It was surprising to see them grow so fast. They were just a week old but had started running around and playing with their mother. Their steps were like that of a drunken monk. It was a feast to see them play around. Moti was happy again and she had company, of her puppies this time.

It was a Thursday and I was coming back from office. As I took the turn to my house, I saw a speeding car cross the road and braked my car. “How could people be so careless about their lives?” I asked myself. There was no answer to it. So I prayed that no innocent is hurt because of these careless creatures and I stepped on the accelerator. My house was barely two hundred meters and as my car moved, I could see something lying on the road. The speeding car had just passed. I drove close and my heart sunk. It was her, writhing with pain, crushed by the speeding car that never bothered to stop. Why would he stop, this was not that worthy a life, the life of a dog. I got out of my car and took her into my lap. She was badly crushed, but alive. She looked at me. I got a bottle of water from my car and dropped a few drops into her mouth. She looked at me with tearful eyes, as if asking me a question. A question any mother would ask, “What would happen to my children?” I had no answers. For a moment I wished I could understand her language and speak to her. She slowly closed her eyes. I could not stand up. My heart stopped for a minute. Words would not come. I brought her home and suddenly there was the whole society around me asking me what happened. On telling them everything that I saw, curses filled the air for the cruel driver. Some of them wept and some cajoled her dead motionless body. We did not want to dump her like an unclaimed corpse so we dug a grave for her in our society. As everybody left for their houses, I walked to my house. As I neared the stairs, I could hear the cries of the puppies, which had to wait long for their mother to come and feed them. But how would anyone let them know that their mother would never come back, that she would never feed them again. I stood there not knowing what to do. Only if every human being knew that he was the only luckiest creation of the almighty with the power of the brain, to think and act accordingly. Only if he knew that he was the one created to love everybody and value a life more than that of his, something like this would not have happened. I took the puppies in my arms and moved up my stairs. When the last of them died, a month back after living with us for thirteen long years, I wished that I could see a few more days of Moti with her puppies.

This is a photograph of my pet – Willy who died of a heart attack.