It was another cloudy day. The end of my school vacation was approaching, marking the end of summer as well. It was a smooth transition from the scorching heat and shining sun to heavy rains and cold breeze. I was out for a walk with my grandfather, something I have enjoyed throughout my childhood and even today. I was just a 10 year old boy scared of speeding vehicles on the highway so close to my house I could hear the buses waging wars against each other. I held onto his hands, refusing to let go; The sense of responsibility regarding the safety and well being of my old grandfather prioritized over my fears of the asphalt. As we entered the shop, we met a relative of ours, a very witty old man. Accompanying him, was a beast, thick brown and black coat, sharp ears and eyes blazing with authority. Even though now, the 21 year old me would go running to give the Alsatian a hug, the small boy who stood in front of the elegant creature experienced only the feeling of fear. I held my grandfather’s hand firmly, believing I would take off along with him the first chance I get. The next thing that happened was nothing short of spectacular; as we bid farewell, the old man got into his car, and spoke to his dog like he was a small child. “Get into the car Shera!”. You could say the same thing to a child, Maybe he would listen; probably he wouldn’t. But I realized this dog was no child, it was a soldier. He got into the car, not hesitating, paying no attention to the small boy who was gaping at him in amazement.
Fast forward a few years, I was studying in a new school. Made new friends, experiencing new culture. A lot had changed; Yet I was still unsure about dogs. I was still intimidated. I can still vividly remember being chased around by strays, deafened by the screams of my younger friends who were on the run along with me. My dad used to tell me that it is only humans, and not animals that hurt you when even when you don’t hurt them. It seemed a little far fetched for a kid to actually believe that, as we often plotted to show the dogs who’s alpha. We were keeping a lookout for one particular dog. One with a chestnut brown colored coat. The one which would chase us away growling, if we were ever present in vicinity. After many days of being chased, we finally grew tired of it. We decided to go on the offensive, as we packed our soft bullet air guns as we approached the dog when it was sleeping. As we moved in closer, the dog saw us coming and suddenly raised it’s head gazing at us. Our hearts skipped a beat as we prepared to resort to running away. The dog looked at us for a few seconds, and went back to sleep. I don’t know what did the trick, whether if the smell of fear was masked by that of false courage, or just because it felt we meant no harm, after all. We took another look at the dog, all of our faces which carried a grimace slowly turned into smiles as we saw tiny puppies lying next to the dog. We went back home. We never forgot about the event. We finally came to the conclusion that the dog was aggressive because it was carrying it’s puppies and felt that any external interference would put their lives in danger. The sense of protection and care are forever embedded in a mother’s heart; may it be human, a dog or any other living being. Maybe my father was right. They don’t attack with no reason. I felt like I understood these amazing beings better. How they think and how they feel.
I had a friend who used to help me out with math. I used to go to his house on weekends. He too happened to have a cute little dog, a dachshund. A very playful and pleasant dog. It used to play around, used to climb on my legs. It was however not a big fan of goodbyes. One of the days my mom came over to take me home, as I was saying goodbye, the dog climbed over me and was playfully looking at me; asking me to stay. My friend pulled her leash to make her let go of me. She still tried to hold on, when she couldn’t use her paws she decided to bite onto the end of my pants which eventually tore in half. I ran crying to my mother. A rather funny sight. It looked like I was wearing a poorly tailored shorts one side longer than the other, with me holding the lower half of the pants in my hands crying. It took me a while to understand why this happened. Maybe fear was still there, but my fascination for dogs grew a little more, day after day.
Time flies. Years passed. I was living in an apartment; and by apartment I refer to someplace where only people are supposed to live. NO PETS. I didn’t realize this was just something they were expected to say and didn’t intend, and I was left in dismay as the officials told me this the moment I stepped into my new home. I made peace with the fact that there was no way I could have a dog in this space, and even if I could keep one, there’s no way everyone at home would support this, as they had a rather realistic view on the difficulties of keeping a pet in an apartment. I still wrestled with the idea of getting a dog into the house. At that point in time I was completely alien to the idea of adopting a puppy; throughout my life I’ve met owners who bought a puppy from someone else who owned a dog. I wanted a dog for myself real bad. The situation only got further serious when I met the cute small puppy one of my close friends had got for himself. I was extremely thrilled, I loved playing with the puppy. And this time, it was not the dog, but me who had trouble saying goodbye and letting go. He had bought the dog from someone who knew about puppies, so I decided that I’d take the same road, and get one for myself. If my dad wasn’t going to fund, I was going to generate the funds by myself. I decide to work during the summer on an internship which paid me enough to get a Golden Retriever. A breed I absolutely adored. The playful, loyal, happy, elegant looking dogs.
With a little help from my grandma, my sister and my friends, I was finally able to put together enough to get the puppy. Everything was set in place, and the puppy was in transit to my home. I was jumping with joy. It was almost like how you fall in love with someone, and you imagine all series of events in life you experience with them; I could see the puppy growing up into a majestic dog in my head. But unfortunately, I couldn’t meet my little one right away, as my internship was still on, and I was expected to complete the assigned duration of 2 months. The few days I had to go work, I believe taught me the true pain of separation. I have to owe it to the fact that I have so many wonderful friends; another close friend of mine decided to help me out and let the puppy stay with him and his own dog when I was away. He used to send me pictures of her everyday, and I was pretty much guilty of spending a lot of time looking at how cute she looked with all the golden fur; when I actually should’ve been working. We didn’t come up with a name for her initially. I was on a hunt for names, and we finally decided to stick with Zoey.
As soon as I received the permission to complete the internship and return home, I pounced at the opportunity and went to my friend’s house to meet the puppy. I cannot possibly put the feeling of meeting Zoey for the first time in words; but if you ever see me smiling out of the blue it is probably me remembering about the time we met. I took her home in my car, she was moving around restlessly at the back, as it was her first time travelling in car. My parents weren’t around at the time, so we both had the whole house to ourselves. Sometimes it was raining outside and sometimes I was too lazy, so I spent a lot of time cleaning up after the mess she makes. But i still cherish the moments when she used to give me a guilty smile after I had to clean up. The nights were the hardest. I used to tie her to the door on the way to my room. The bed used to have a tall cover beside the headrest, and when I finally decided to go to sleep; I closed my eyes for a few seconds I could hear a small cry for help. That’s when I woke up to see Zoey looking at me. She stood silent for a while looking at me. I went back to sleep and she started crying again. I realized that she was afraid I was going away every time I lied down, because she couldn’t see my when I went to sleep. I felt like a dad with a cranky baby, as I got up, went to her, petted her and reassured her that I was still there. The adjusting period was not simple. But we got through it together.
Soon my parents were back home. They couldn’t stay mad at me for bringing a dog home after looking at her. They too fell in love with her as we all agreed on welcoming her to our family. Days went by so quickly, she grew bigger each day. My mom and dad spending more time with her as I had to soon return to college. Amidst all the fun, the cleaning up was getting harder, with the dog getting bigger and shedding fur. But we were so much in love with her, there is no way we could let the work behind cleaning or caring for her be an obstacle.
I thought this would work. I believed it would sustain forever. Months passed. We soon learned that due to medical complications, my sister had to deliver a baby prematurely, which meant that the baby was more vulnerable to infections and diseases than others. A new born baby in the family! An event that should normally bring us joy was now mixed with our feelings of anxiety for the wellness of my sister and the baby. After weeks of fear and anxiety, a baby girl was born. A tiny person wrapped in multiple layers of cotton sheets. I felt the bad times had passed; that the days to come will be filled with more happiness. Yet it didn’t stop there. When I kept my faith in a better future, that’s when the doctor advised that we move Zoey away because it’s fur could compromise the health of the newborn baby.
I found it impossible to accept the fact that I had to part ways with my little one. In fact, it was the same with everyone who saw her grow up. Everyone at home were crestfallen when they realized Zoey couldn’t stay with us anymore. I tried to argue my cause; but I lost the battle between something I loved more than myself, something I’d watched grow up against the sensitivities of human sentiments. I decided to give her away. My dad told me about his friend who wanted to get a dog, so we decided to let Zoey stay with him. I saw the thin line of hope of bringing her back home once the situation had passed.
It was a rather terrible moment when everyone at home had to say goodbye to Zoey. We got her into the car, as we drove towards the place which was to be her new home. I was crying profusely, my dad had his hands on the wheel, and a rather stern look; but I could see him holding back what he actually felt. When I met the people who would be taking care of her, I felt confident in their commitment for Zoey and her care. I left her in the house, and I rushed back into the car as I tried my best to not come off looking weak and helpless. I stayed in the car, silent and stuck in a trance of shock and despair.
But it is what they say; Time heals everything. I was soon used to opening the front door not being welcomed happily by a cute ball of fur. I found myself with a lot of free time as I was relieved from the duties of walking and playing with my little puppy.
I visit her whenever I get a chance. Maybe we don’t stay together and meet everyday, but we know how much we care for each other. It is not to say I miss her any less. Everyday when I eat at the table, I remember her looking at me yearning for a bite of whatever I was eating. When I bite into an apple I remember her appearing out of nowhere because she really did love apples. When the vacuum cleaner is turned on, I remember her running away scared of the noise and hide herself under the couch with her tail outside.
But when I meet her today, I don’t find a myself in a situation where I ask myself if I need to bring her back home. I know she has a family who cares a lot for her, I know she has a big house with a lot of space to run and play. I believe she is happier here than she could be anywhere else. And I feel a whole lot better knowing that she is happy and well.
Because I think maybe I did love her enough to let her go.
Dogs are wonderful creatures gifted with the ability to love and care. Stray or domestic, it is important we treat them with affection and care and learn to respect their existence. Let us stand for our furry friends, and fight against their ill-treatment and abuse.
Bubble 