While I was in school, the summer vacations were the most awaited. I would visit my grandparents every year, and so would my cousins. It would be a crazy fortnight. A sudden tour through some old photographs brought to mind one summer where we had a unique experience.
I was in Lucknow, and the house was in utter chaos. My maternal uncle and hi wife had gone to the next block to get some tandoori chicken packed for dinner. In the process they had spotted a white Spitz, in a collar, being pursued by the street dog mafia and his minions. They rescued the little guy and tried to find out if anybody knew where his home was, but that was to no avail. They did not have the heart to abandon him, and weren't sure of getting him home because we already had two pet dogs, and my grandma's consent was a must. So the little fellow was lodged at a friend's place for the night. Later, my grandma agreed to give the little boy a home until we found his owners, or perhaps forever.
What came home the next morning was a bunch of cotton wool so adorable that all of us fell in love with it at first sight. Our pets - Tina and Snooty - took an immediate dislike to this new four legged person in the house. Tina, a Pomeranian, was the older one and considered the house to be her property, so much so that she would even brush aside Snooty - she is most likely a Great Pyrenees - who was the younger one and thrice Tina's size. Tina walked away with her nose held high, but Snooty came upto this new creature under the guise of curiosity, which was partly true. I was holding the Spitz in my arms and Snooty began, what appeared to be, sniffing at him. A few seconds later, I felt a set of sharp teeth digging into my belly and realised that Snooty was biting the little dog in my arms. I immediately held him higher, far from her reach but she was not to be dissuaded so easily. Eventually I had to take him upstairs into our room and shut the door to keep Snooty away.
My sister, cousins and I just took the Spitz as our own and decided he would stay with our grandparents from now on. In the meanwhile, the grown ups were upto their antics which leaves adult life devoid of innocent adventure. Soon after we tried convincing our mothers to let us carry him with us to Bombay or Bangalore - totally subject to who's mother agreed, if at all. I named him Roger. We made him a bed which was both comfortable as well as away from Snooty's reach. She would prowl in the corridor awaiting the slightest chance to pounce upon him. The trouble arose when we tried to feed him. He just refused to eat. We tried all possible combinations and varieties of food, but he just wouldn't eat. This got everybody worried. We were to learn a few days later that he ate curd. That was the only thing we did not try feeding him.
My uncle had already passed word around in the colony about the missing home of the dog in our custody. He also sent a message to the vet. Dr Mathur was the only vet in the vicinity and the chances were high that he would know the whereabouts of Roger. Nothing happened for the next couple of days. We tried feeding him tit bits, but he would soon starve that way. In the afternoon a burly man called at the gate. He had the vet's reference and said he wished to see the dog we had with us. After the preliminary interrogation we were asked to bring Roger to the lawn where this burly man waited. It turned out he was his trainer and Roger leaped with joy when he saw this man. All the children, including me, were hoping against hope that Roger would stay. But we had found his owners and he had to leave. The trainer told us he was called Isaac by the people at his house.
I still remember how difficult it was to say good bye to Roger. It was a teary farewell. At that moment we could have done just about anything to have him stay a little longer. Isaac's family was relieved to find him safe, and to express their gratitude they invited us for tea. We were only too happy to go over. When we met him I wanted to smuggle him out somehow; but that was not to be. His family called him Isaac, we kept addressing him as Roger. We played with that ball of fur for a while and, with a longing in our hearts, left for good. That silly thing called attachment!
~
My uncle had already passed word around in the colony about the missing home of the dog in our custody. He also sent a message to the vet. Dr Mathur was the only vet in the vicinity and the chances were high that he would know the whereabouts of Roger. Nothing happened for the next couple of days. We tried feeding him tit bits, but he would soon starve that way. In the afternoon a burly man called at the gate. He had the vet's reference and said he wished to see the dog we had with us. After the preliminary interrogation we were asked to bring Roger to the lawn where this burly man waited. It turned out he was his trainer and Roger leaped with joy when he saw this man. All the children, including me, were hoping against hope that Roger would stay. But we had found his owners and he had to leave. The trainer told us he was called Isaac by the people at his house.
I still remember how difficult it was to say good bye to Roger. It was a teary farewell. At that moment we could have done just about anything to have him stay a little longer. Isaac's family was relieved to find him safe, and to express their gratitude they invited us for tea. We were only too happy to go over. When we met him I wanted to smuggle him out somehow; but that was not to be. His family called him Isaac, we kept addressing him as Roger. We played with that ball of fur for a while and, with a longing in our hearts, left for good. That silly thing called attachment!
~
