My husband is a naturalist and by that distinction loves all the creatures that God made, both big and small. When it comes to animals, even the ones that man domesticated, I too love them but from afar. In my case, the hand that rocks the cradle did not seem to show any affinity for either the canine or feline species. Ergo, it followed that I too developed a similar inclination.
But it’s not as if I never came into contact with dogs or cats. I had two sets of cousins who had adopted a dog as a pet around the same time. The first one’s pedigree was nothing to write home about, while the other one was a Spaniel or so. The former was named Sheru and he was a fine looking dog, sporting a whitish coat and a confidence that came from knowing that he was loved by all in the family. Tentatively, I extended the hand of friendship to him, more scared than eager. With leash in hand, I took him out for walks pretending a confidence I did not feel, for I was told that dogs can sense fear in humans. And Sheru was a pretty smart customer.
My daughter, however, seemed to love animals—goat, sheep, cow, cat, dog—and was at ease in their company. Her confidence amazed me. When we moved to Bengaluru, she immediately got pally with a dog called Moti who was in the habit of making the rounds of many homes in our layout. At night, he slept within the premises of a certain house, permitted to do so by the lady of the family.
Moti was a handsome specimen with a robust build, golden-brownish coat and beautiful brown eyes. He used that knowledge to his advantage! Every one or two days, he arrived at our gate for scraps and would growl at the other stray dogs if they tried to cut in. My daughter would get cross if I shooed Moti away without giving him anything to eat. Soon, the other strays began hovering near our gate and sometimes, I would oblige by throwing them a few scraps of food. Moti, as was his wont, would come whenever he wished and would hardly ever be turned away.
The other day, when he came wagging his tail at the gate, I tried to shoo him away. My husband, taking a good look at Moti, said that he seemed to be getting on in years and might survive for just a few years more. At that moment, I felt like smothering Moti with love ... and food.
Sunita Raghu
Email: sunitarag@gmail.com