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KATHMANDU, JUNE 13
I am not maudlin. But my emotions can and do get the better of me whenever a community dog or puppy dies or goes missing. One death recently left me particularly devastated.
It is the story of a black female, called Kaali, born and raised in my neighbourhood.
She was a quiet type, who did not mingle with her extended family that I have been feeding for years. When she was pregnant, I bought a kennel and put it outside my compound. Monsoon was on the horizon. But she did not use it for birthing.
She would come for her meals and would disappear into a bush nearby.
One night it was raining heavily. The puppies, six of them, crawled out of the bush onto the road full of water. Kaali was standing in the rain, helplessly watching her yelping babies.
I picked them up and put them in the kennel. I asked Kaali to go inside, but she just stood in the rain, staring at me as if to thank me. One evening a few months later, Kaali was barking distressingly. As soon as she saw my car, she came running after it, barking even louder. Sensing something was wrong, I got out of my car and ran to the kennel.
An alien dog was attacking the pups. Four puppies laid motionless.
I chased the rogue dog away. I shifted the kennel inside my compound along with the two puppies. Kaali would not come in. I could feel her pain for her dead ones.
A month ago, she ate her dessert – a packet of biscuits – she had been used to for years. She did not show up for the next two nights. On the third night, I spotted Kaali struggling to stand on her legs a few metres away. Seeing her plight, I went towards her and offered her biscuits.
She did not eat but continued with her efforts to stand up and make her way over a short wall barely one foot in height. After a great deal of struggle, she somehow managed to climb over the low wall and dragged herself before me.
I gave biscuits and water to Kaali. She touched neither. She just looked at me and continued to struggle to keep standing, wobbling all the time. I requested my sister to give her some warm milk, rice and biscuits.
I was leaving the town for a few days.
The following day, someone called me and told me 'your' dog is dying. Suddenly, an ominous thought flashed through my mind. I told my wife, "Could it be that Kaali came to say a final goodbye yesterday?" It perhaps struck her, too.
I was devastated by the very thought of it. How can I not be? Nobody expects a dying dog to come and display such emotion.
It's been two months, but I find it hard to come to terms with her death. I should have known, but her death was the last thing in my mind. Her final gesture left me in emotional tatters.
