And its a dog's life, Chap. IV

Sulking and upset from what had happened with me and the poor little puppy that wasn’t at fault but still had to go back to that horrid pet shop, I got back home after “exchanging” her with a cute little Black one in my arms. In the two days that the little one had spent with me, I’d gotten attached to her. It wasn’t easy for me to leave her even though I’d brought another one back with me. How could it be? Puppies aren’t toys that humans can play with. They are beautiful souls that have feelings and wonderful hearts, no different than those of human babies.

I didn’t play with him - just fed him, went to my room and sat on the bed, crying. All I could think of was her. The way just a few hours ago, she had slept peacefully with her head on my hand and now when I think of it three years later, that’s the only memory of her that I can clearly remember. Wherever she may be, I just hope she’s okay.

After coming back to my senses and realizing that neglecting the new one wasn’t exactly going to help anyhow, I went out of my room to see where he was. I found him cowering under a table in the living room with my relatives were gathered around. They called me to sit with them and decide upon a name for the newest member of our family. After a long discussion (which was more like a brain-storm), my mom came up with the name “Baghira”, the Black Panther from “The Jungle Book”, a popular cartoon series and we all decided it was an ideal name.

Baghira took about two days to settle down in his new home. He wasn’t much trouble (initially). And because he was my first dog, I had a lot to figure out about caring for him as even though “google”, my saviour gave me quite enough information, one can’t exactly learn this stuff. It’s like parenting and no available lengths of data can teach a mother her job, it comes with love, passion and experience. So I had my work cut out for me. I would get up early every morning (mostly stay up all night), take Baghira out to pee, go and feed my pack outside and play with them for a while, come back, wash up and cook for Baghira (usually roasted wheat or semolina boiled with part milk, part water), and sleep for a while after that. This was how mostly her days passed. And next, it was time for Baghira to be taken to a good vet for a checkup and his first vaccination.

All that sorted, everything went on pretty smoothly. Baghira would come running as soon as I opened the door of my room and go hide under the bed so I wouldn’t be able to reach him, he would also try pulling brooms and mops out of the maids’ hands, rip apart any toy I gave to play with, chew on the furniture and so on. He kept me busy and I loved him more each day.

A lot was happening around the house those days. We were about to shift and it wasn’t easy. We’d been living in that house since the last 42 years, well, the grownups had been… I was 17 years old and had spent all those years in that house. There were so many memories attached to that place, some nice ones, some that I wanted to forget.