Patch

Some stories are best left unsaid. Yet the story telling would remain incomplete without them. Losing a pet is like losing a member of the family. When it happens to one that is young or when it happens ‘unnecessarily’ it leaves a permanent wound that never quite fills up.

When we moved into our last house, we were just three of us as my husband was posted in Mumbai and two of my daughters were away in hostels. No big deal except for the fact that we had a fair number of cats and dogs which needed looking after. We were not interested in any expansion in the family.

We made some resolutions- first being -NO ENCOURAGING STRAYS.

Easier said than done, particularly when you find three underfed creatures at the door step!

We gave in. Surely giving a bit of left-over food was not really encouraging them! Shortly, things took a grim turn. We discovered to our horror that one of them was pregnant.

Resolution two took shape-WE WILL NOT HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH THE PUPS.

Think we heard a funny sound when resolution two was being propounded. Probably, it was the mother dog choking over her laughter.

We did not have long to wait. She delivered promptly right across the road.

Resolution three was made. NO BRINGING THEM INTO OUR COMPOUND.

It rained. They were put into our garage. A mad assortment of pups. Reminded me of the assorted biscuit packets of my childhood. They looked as large as sausages.

We named the dogs very imaginatively. The mother became Mama, the other (who guarded the pups as our own), Mashi and the third which had no hair, Hairless. The last, probably, the grandmother.

Mama turned out to be an exceptionally scared and shy dog. She was lured into the garage to feed her pups in a manner reminiscent of Hansel and Gretel- a line of biscuits leading to the garage.

Our intentions were clear. Once they were old enough they would go back to the road to their mother. Garage was a temporary solution.

Days went by. The pups were really cute. We named them Master, Sally, Patch, Brandy and Wally. The road was far too busy for us to let them out.

Once they were some months old we decided that we had to get going if our plan was to succeed.

The best time to put them out was at night as traffic was sparse. For a few nights it worked. Some were naughty and we had a treat rounding them up before morning. Usually it was either Master or Brandy.

One early morning I was woken up to be told that one had not returned. Don’t ask me how, but I knew it was Patch. We went down the lanes calling out to her. Ultimately, in our own backyard, I heard the swish, swish of her tail when I called out to her. I picked her up and realized to my horror that she had met with an accident and one of her front legs was a total mess.

We gave her first aid and waited for the morning. Bad news awaited us. The vet promised to try but thought an amputation would be needed. Patch was the most uncomplaining little thing. Always ready with her wag though she must have been in acute pain. For weeks N took her for dressing at the vet’s. However, progress was very slow. We all felt scared of the impending operation. The thought of her losing a leg was painful. 

One day at the clinic while we were still dithering about the operation, a sales person looked at Patch and said, ‘just because she is uncomplaining, it doesn’t mean she is not in pain!’

We took a snap decision to get her operated.

Patch was a wonderful patient. She began hopping around on three almost as soon as she got off the operation table. She was a little tooo active and strained her stitches but that was Patch.

Patch was like a little bird hopping on three totally unfazed by her disability. We knew that even when the other pups were released on the road, Patch would be ours.

We lost Sally to a heat stroke. She was one of the most good natured pups ever born and we felt heart broken.

There were worse days ahead. Wally had discharge, pyometra, and needed operation. We were worried but Wally made quick recovery after her operation. We had to get Brandy and Patch operated too. By now uterus removal had become quite a normal phenomenon and we were sure all would be well.

The operations were successful and Patch and Brandy both returned home fine. Particularly Patch, though we were told that her case had been quite complicated. Even the vet was surprised that a dog so young should have a problem which is usually associated with an older dog.

Thereafter, what happened we do not know. On the third morning Patch refused her share of biscuits. She looked unwell and the vet was sent for. When I returned from school, the vet had left prescribing some tonics. A few minutes later we sat down for lunch and for no reason at all I decided to peep under the bed to take a look at her. She was having breathing distress. Though the doc must have been a stone’s throw from our house, his cell played up and we could not get in touch. R ran to the nearby medicine shop to get Decdan but before she could return it was all over.  

Patch was one of the most spirited dog we have ever had. It is difficult to say why she was special but she was. In her lifetime she was more a terrace dog with her siblings than a house dog although we always intended to bring her in. Now her siblings, Master, Wally and Brandy are very much our house dogs. We never did experiment with letting them out after Patch.