THE UNGRATEFUL PET

“Tommy come here, here, this way….sshh .. here, this way”

But Tommy would not listen, instead of coming this way, it runs away to sniff the garbage. You call him to jump and it barks, you command it to sit and it jumps towards the finger to bite as if the real treasure was in the fingers, the sound commands simply did not register in the ears and head of the street puppy.

The dog training was failing miserably but our enthusiasm wasn’t until that fateful day when it bit me.

On our way back from school, during that time of the year when cute, adorable and colourful puppies tottered on the streets, we would stop to watch them play and also at times to pull the drifting one closer to their mother. Watching them compete, in their own tiny ways, with each other for a share of feed from their sickly mother which lay drowsily under a shade while the little ones somersaulted on and around her.

“I think the puppies do not get enough to eat and drink” I remarked to my brother.

“They aren’t safe either, the other day, one of them was crushed under an unruly car’s wheel” remarked my brother like a concerned and responsible animal admirer.

“And I think their mother is also unconcerned and careless” I added further.

Was it due to our affection or an effort to save the dog-kind, we picked one puppy and walked homewards determined to raise it as a pet.

“Out, out of the house, I don’t want the devil in my house” shrieked my mother on seeing a puppy in my lap.

“But we will take care of it, and it will protect our house when it grows up” I protested and also tried to convince.

While the discord was on, the puppy gave away its baby growl. I was elated that the puppy was in my side. Finally, we arrived at an agreement. The puppy to be kept in the courtyard and no-entry in the house under any circumstances. A dog house was quickly made using the abandoned bamboo baskets, jute bags and newspaper. Food and milk were bestowed more than it could consume in its lifetime. By all means it was becoming a member of the house but with several restrictions imposed by mother.

Now we had a bigger problem. Naming the pet.

As it always happen, most of the dogs in our country have an English name, so keeping the tradition intact, we named it Tommy. However, there are few rare exceptions, names like Sheru, Moti etc are also heard of. Several years later, in college, I was amused to learn that the undergraduate hostellers adopted the street puppies and named them after their professors. “Mere naam pe kutta palna” I truly understood the meaning of the maxim then.

Next, the communication with a pet is always in English. So, we started out little instructions in the elite language which is a must know for all Indian dogs. Sadly, Tommy either didn’t understand the language or was disobedient, it did things as per its wish and our commands did not ring any bell in his ears. Days and weeks went by and Tommy was growing fast. Not yet a fully grown dog but not a puppy either. Tommy was secured with a leash around its neck to contain its waywardness. While the other street dogs barged into any food offered, Tommy had his own whimsies, he would sniff and abandon ordinary food and eat only the choicest ones.

Whenever we brothers fought which was regular, not a fist fight but a sort of wrestling, Tommy use to get electrified and barked and jumped. Tommy would stretch its paws and jump, exert all forces to overcome the limitation set by the leash. In one such scuffle, my brother pushed me back and my leg landed in the reachable territory of Tommy. In his excitement Tommy planted his teeth on my calf and I jumped on my feet with a yelp. Everything around me fell silent, my brother gazed with wide eyes, my mother came running with her hand over her mouth in horror, and even poor Tommy curled and sat in the corner wagging its tail.

“Twelve big injections to get rid of the dog bite”

“No..no.. Seven injections would be sufficient, though they are large ones and extremely painful..”

“People get afraid of water, they run away at the mere mention of water”

“If the biting dog dies, the guy who is bitten would also die”

Such dialogues and many more captured in different places and different times professed by different people started to revolve in my head leaving me with a shudder.

“My Tommy, the tiny creature which didn’t even know to eat and walk, I nurtured with my own hands and this is the reward it gave after it grew up” my mind was filled with such angry thoughts, looks like highly influenced by the daily soap operas.

Concerned neighbours poured in, a message was sent across to father, and I was hurriedly readied and taken to the nearby colliery clinic.

Compounder Raghunandan applied some liquid on the wound, which had just few teeth marks, no blood or tearing of flesh, the area turned dark and left me with a pain of burning. No medicines given, no injection administered. I felt happy but dreaded at the thought, what if the uncountable injections starts from some other day. It was never required though.

Tommy didn’t carry rabies as he was with us since its early days and never had a chance of mingling with the other street dogs. But, keeping Tommy home now was out of question. Father untied the leash and took Tommy to some faraway place and abandoned it. By the time it was turning dark, poor Tommy had made its way back home and was found whimpering on the door and trying to push open the door with its paws.

No forgiveness, next day morning Father took Tommy even further in a vehicle and abandoned it. The cast aside leash lay near the empty dog house. No more barking, jumping or the need for dog-training.

Tommy never returned home.