You win some, you lose…

It would be so nice if all stories had happy endings. Unfortunately they don’t. Real life is quite different from reel life. Every once in a while one is shaken up to drive home the fact that we are not God. We can try our best but that is all that we an do. We are forced to move on but the little hollow sensation in the heart remains; the tiny space occupied by some loved four-legged creature who failed to tell you what was wrong.

Today, as the year ends I would like to share the memories of some of the creatures we lost in quick succession. The ‘win’ stories I will get down to in the New Year.  

The fact is that they were strays not really ‘ours’. Yet, who can define ‘ours’? Just because they were not permanent residents did not mean we loved them less.

When we moved into our new house last year, it was puppy season. There was a whole lot of beautiful pups near the gate of the complex. This was about two km from our house and there was no reason to really know them. Unfortunately, the only grocery shop was located near the gate. After a lot of resistance, we gave in to feeding them biscuits. We told each other that we would not give them more than once a day, even if they ran after the car. (I am proud to say we have managed it pretty well).

The pups grew up fast and unlike many stray pups are rather good looking. About three months back, we noticed that one of them had symptoms of cold and she was not being able to keep pace with the others. These pups are always hungry as there is no house close by and their meal usually consists of biscuits doled out to them by several people who happen to frequent the grocery shop, Vichitra. This continued for a day or two and then she disappeared. There was a hunt for her and eventually she surfaced but seemed shaky on her legs. We thought that she was recovering particularly as her appetite was back. Whenever we called out to them, the pups would come running with Tottery trailing behind them. For superstitious reasons we changed her name to Angle.

Every day her legs seemed to get worse. A decision was taken to take her to a vet however, it was easier said than done. We (in spite of all the biscuits) were strangers to her and she refused to get abducted. The very next day we found her lying in a hollow, unable to get up. This time we were able to bundle her up and take her to our house.

The vet told us that she had recovered from an attack of distemper (one of the more nasty disease a dog can suffer from and which effects the nervous system.) He prescribed a lot of medicines and asked us to wait and watch. He also told us that the infection was over and there was no threat to life. We were relieved though the prospect of her remaining an invalid could not be ruled out.

The medicines worked and for the next two days there was a distinct improvement. Unfortunately, she reacted to one the injections prescribed and we had to fall back on oral medicines. This was followed by a month when Angle just lay on her bed unable to sit up without help. Everyday we would see signs of recovery but I wonder whether it was a figment of our imagination and hope. Everybody chipped in to care for her, particularly the ones at home.

Her last day was like every other day. She had some fifteen biscuits for breakfast which was followed with lunch. When I dropped in to see her she seemed thirsty. I made some soup for her and asked R to give it. She rejected the soup and R said she did not look too well. She decided to give her some emergency medicines. Who would have guessed that Angle would not give us clear five minutes? By the time the medicines were taken out Angle had moved on. Yes, she had friends around her when she died. Perhaps, she would have never been able to sit up on her own, in which case it was the best for her. But it didn’t make it easy for those who had cared for her to accept that Angle who had ‘no threat to life’ should suddenly depart.

The next one was not even there with us for a day.

B called up from her office to tell us that an adult crow had fallen off a tree and was in a bad shape. Monday being an off day for the vet we had no option but to consult him over the phone. He thought the bird was suffering from glucose deficiency and would be fine once a shot was administered. The problem was that it could be done only on the next day. A cage was promptly purchased and the bird offered food and water. However, the poor crow did not survive the journey. One will ever know whether it was unwell, dehydrated or just too old to live.

The third was the worst. The Vichitra pups were not the only ones on the campus. We had some moving around right in front of our house. The mother was all skin and bones and needed attention. She had, we thought, two pups. One had one ear flopping down (south) and the other pointing straight up (north). She was a skinny little thing and almost didn’t make it. We called her Compass. She had a healthier brother with the softest brown eyes. He surfaced one day in a red check shirt which someone had put on to guard him from cold. We discovered Compass had other siblings too. One, who almost looked like Compass, Jharna; Rogue – who got adopted by the family who basically took care of all of them, and Laugh (seems to be perpetually laughing) a naughty little thing, who didn’t frequent our house till she was much older. Winter was not very kind to the pups though Rogue’s family had made a house for them. Rogue, Compass, and Jarna fell ill. In spite of best efforts Jharna failed to make it. By the end of the year they had all grown up and the red-shirt male looked handsome. He had been named Shahnawaz (Shanu) probably because it looked as if he had applied surma.  

Ever since we have moved in, one of the first things done is to feed the gang. About a month back, I found that Shanu was not interested in eating. Thinking that he probably had fever he was given a Crocin. Sure enough he got back his appetite. Next day however he again failed to eat. Neither medicines nor tempting morsels could persuade him to eat. Hours were spent in chasing him to give food or medicines.

Days passed and we got seriously worried. Eventually he was caught and whisked off to the vet. After a thorough check up, the doctor admitted that he was clueless. He prescribed some tests in case he did not start eating in the next three days. On B’s birthday he broke his fast with a cup of milk. This was followed with soup and liver). We thought the danger was over. The euphoria was short lived. Not only did he refuse to eat but brought up some filthy stuff. The doc did not like the turn and fixed an appoint with the pathologist.

Shanu continued to vomit. The flesh seemed to fall off. In a matter of a few days he had shrunk so much that my daughters could carry him up and down three flights of steps without a problem. Our moods rode up and down with Shanu’s condition. If he took some food we were sure that things were working out. If he vomited, we felt helpless. It was horrible to see a full grown young dog wasting away.

It was the second last day of the year. Shanu was taken for a series of blood tests and x- ray. It was also the day of jubilee celebration of our school. His ordeal ldid not end with tests. He had a long car journey to the house. He returned exhausted. Before I could return home the fight was over. I got the news on my way home. Then e. Then began a not very novel ritual- deleting the back and forth messages regarding his daily doings. ( ‘Has Shanu eaten?’ ‘ ‘No rejected milk. Will try soup’ and also on.)

The following day we heard his kidney was extensively damaged. To a lay person he had shown no signs of kidney failure. But then what difference does it make whether it was his kidney or liver? The fact is that he’s no more. In the morning when we take out the food he will no longer be there dancing around you with his front paws joined begging one to hurry. He was so shy and yet so stoic to the last. Yes, it will be a while before we can pretend to forget him. Sweeping away his prescription or throwing away the last bit of sweet he had been offered doesn’t really change anything. Nothing hurts more than the death of a young one. It will be a while before I can can look out of the kitchen window and not think of Shanu. For those who looked after him day and night in the last month , I am sure it’s worse.