Recently, I was "cleaning out trash" on my laptop. And I happened to find this.
Presented without comment or edits.
Written by 13 year-old me who returned home from a school trip and got to know that "her dog" died.
Time: After a month of the aforementioned incident.
“It’s going to be one of those welcomes,” I thought to myself as I paced the lane, leading to the gate of my grandmother’s place with my cousin. The dread had been persistent in my thoughts since we’d got out of the car and I cringed painfully as a giant mass of black, fuzzy hair bounced towards me. “No, no, no,” I repeated in my head, a terrified expression, now etched on to every line on my face. The black Alsatian ran towards me as I found my way towards the door of the house, running with all the energy I possessed. My cousin roared with laughter as I scuttled away to safety, taking sighs of relief after I was sure that the dog had been evaded. She dropped her ears and with her head bent low, walked away sulkily.
So that was my greatest fear – dogs. It had all started in a summer night because of the same dog. My mother had called me outside for something and the moment I stepped out of the house, I had been suddenly subjected to two paws that sought balance on me and uncountable licks. Taken aback by the suddenness of this affection, I had screamed helplessly. Rescue had come late. Which didn't give comfort to my young mind. Since then, I’ve avoided Spicy. She was way too affectionate. I was not even her owner.
There were many moments like this and every summer I visited, there had been some friend of my brother’s who had to bear the brunt of this unforeseen affection along with me. Most of the time, I let that person be forcibly licked as I sought my way to the door. Sometimes the tables were turned on me. It was all a laugh in the end yet the fear nagged at the back of my mind.
As I grew older, I became a sort of animal rights activist against my entire non-vegetarian family. I simply refused to eat meat when my family cooked up dishes and dishes of chicken, giving sour looks to my parents along the way when they tried to force-feed me with talks about ‘protein.’ I would rather not grow than do it at the expense of an animal’s life. All this somehow, intrigued me about bonding with animals as I found myself spending more time with Spicy when I’d visit my cousin’s place. She was a friendly dog and welcomed everyone with a big, slurpy lick. Everytime we’d buy chocolates, I made sure I’d get one for her, as dessert with her daily meal.
Her story is perhaps the kind you would tell to a wide-eyed child, waiting to hear a bedtime story. Spicy (her name was different at that time) used to live with a family somewhere in the same city. Everything was going moderately well after her owners got sick of her. About two years old, she was victim to unending neglect and indifference. Never given the attention dogs need, she barely got a pat on her back or a scrub every week. In fact, she was denied food and had to starve. Her condition became worse every day. However, one lucky day, a family friend noticed her misery and being part of an animal rights group rescued Spicy from the place. She was bought by my five-year old cousin and my aunt and uncle. At that time, the Spice Girls were really famous, so they named her after the group. And then, she lived happily ever after.
She was the perfect pet. Vivacious and a ball of energy, she loved everyone and everything (except the rats in the backyard or the cats in the locality). She puckered up her nose and got those puppy dog chocolate brown eyes every time you ruffled her black mane of hair, her tail wagging uncontrollably. In the night, she was on guard for any prowlers or thieves and barked maniacally if she felt something smelt wrong. And she was deathly afraid of water. It was hard getting her on for a bath because she’d run away and hide in her cage, crouching in the shadows, as if wanting imprisonment forever than taking a bath. Having a dog is a big responsibility but sharing the love is a gift that outweighs all the negative factors. I never owned her but playing with her during my visits was one of the perks of friendship that I got every summer.
Soon she grew old, about 8 to 9 years in age and the vet gave her medication to cure her of illnesses as her susceptibility to diseases increased. The last year I visited her, she was ill, her energy reduced, but her eyes still shining as I patted her back. I found myself spending more time with her because something told me that I’d not have more summers to play. She devoured the chocolates my sister and I gave her sumptuously, as if they made her happiness. The morning I left my cousin’s place to return to
Dogs are truly a man’s best friend. We learn this truth only by experiencing it in real life. Those who own pets would know of the love and loyalty they offer. Even if the whole world turns against you, your pet will be there with you, backing you up because it loves you for just being you. It doesn’t need much - only love and the attention that all of us, as humans, want. And care, just like we wouldn’t like it if our loved ones refrain from acknowledging our existence. Because your pet has you. It only has you and your family in the world to call its own. Thus, it focuses all its energy and emotions into showing the love and gratitude for those who care for him and give him attention. Its love is truly unselfish and unconditional.
I learned a lot from Spicy. About emotions. About feelings. About humans and above all, appreciating what you have. Because if an animal can appreciate the gift of having loved ones and gratitude for what we receive, so can we…
