The Joy of Loving And Being Loved By Tommy, Bunty, Rasputin, Rappy, Jigsaw,Bismarcki, Chutki, Choco and Goro
by Anita Saran
I've always had dogs. As far back as I can remember. During my
childhood there was Tommy on whose back I used to ride. And the
Nameless One who went rabid and bit me, leading to those painful shots
in my tummy.
There was the mutt Bunty, a beautiful fawn colour who
would follow Father's car in Bokaro. Father brought him along when he
moved to Bangalore many years ago while I was in Loreto College,
Darjeeling. Bunty ran away.
It's the saddest when pets get lost.
I remember when I lost my favourite dog, Rasputin who reminded me of
the Beast in Disney's animated 'Beauty and the Beast.' He was the
progeny of the Lhasa Apso, Rapunzel of the golden locks, gifted to me
by Minoo. Rappy, as I called her, mated with a friend's Cocker Spaniel
which resulted in Rasputin, Jigsaw and another pup that I gave to one
of my friends.
Rasputin had a shaggy black coat and a long white beard and moustache.
When he ran, his long ears flapped in the wind. I called him my Shadow
Dog because he followed me everywhere.
When he went missing, I put out posters with his photo in the stores
and waited a whole month during which I hollered for him on the
streets and wept in the nights. Having dabbled in Egyptian magic for
some years, I decided to resort to the ancient Golden Thread ritual.
It involves pulling in the object of your desire with the help of an
invisible golden thread.
Incredibly, the next day, my maid said that her daughter worked in a
house with a dog of Rasputin's description.
Thrilled that my magic had worked, I armed myself with a photograph of
Rasputin and me and accompanied the maid to the house. He was sitting
chained to the door. His locks were shorn and when he saw me, he began
to shiver with love and excitement in that old familiar way.
The photo did the rest.
These people had found him somewhere (he'd gone after some female
company) and taken him in.
That's incredible, isn't it?
Another time I took him with me in my car to Nandi Hills where he
suddenly disappeared from view. I could hear him howling and could see
a troop of monkeys looking over the brink of the hill in the
direction of the sound.
Fearing that he had fallen off the hill and was probably in his death
throes, I looked over the hillside and found him a few feet below on a
ledge. I cannot describe the waves of relief which swept over me. Two
very kind young men fetched him for me.
If it wasn't for the monkeys, I wouldn't have found my dog.
Before he died in 2004, he waited a long time for me spend some time
with him. I used to teach English to a Japanese gentleman in those
days. When Rasputin suddenly collapsed one morning before I left the
house, I took him along, thinking I would take him to the veterinary
hospital in Hebbal after the class.
He waited two hours for me in the car. In the hospital, the vet
examined him and said he was in a critical condition, and had been ill
for some months. At 14, he was too old for surgery. I was amazed. My
Shadow Dog had never even hinted at his illness.
After a couple of hours, when I carried him out, he suddenly yelped
and collapsed. I rushed him back in, but he was gone. My only solace
was my spiritual mentor who was there with me throughout. She said he
loved me so much that he had waited in that critical state to spend
some time with me. He had waited to die in my arms.
There is so much we can learn from our pets. As The Buddha pointed out, they are our relatives from previous lives. They also possess "Buddha nature" and are capable of enlightenment.You can read more about the Buddhist perspective on animals here.
I cried so much for Rasputin that my spiritual mentor told me to get a
hold of myself. Attachment is not love.
Rasputin still comes to me in my dreams to play with me. Whenever he
seems sad, I pray for him. The last time I saw him, he had aloe vera
growing from his head.
Jigsaw died at the ripe old age of 18. A few months before his
passing, I was recovering from a major surgery in my hometown, far
from Bangalore. I had left my doggies in the care of my son who lives
on a farm on the outskirts of the city.
After about a month, and still not fully recovered, I dreamed of an
unwell Jigsaw. A couple of days later I returned to Bangalore and
found Jigsaw seriously ill. He wouldn't have survived if I hadn't got
back in time.
Our pets communicate with us. We just have to see the signs.
Then there was the mongrel Chutki - a colony dog I had adopted. Big
brown loving eyes. She used to be a most agile dog, nimble-footed,
jumping over walls. After falling sick, she lingered on for a whole
year much to the surprise of the vet. According to my Guru, Chutki
had taken some of my illness upon herself.
We owe much more to our pets than we know.
About a year ago, we gave Chutki a grand burial in my garden. Incense,
flowers and a libation of milk which she used to love.
Today I still have Bismarcki, born of Rappy and Rasputin. She follows
me everywhere too and shivers with love just like Rasputin.
I also have the super intelligent Choco - a beautiful brown and white
stray who sucks marrow out of bones and can tell exactly when I'm
finished with my computer, and the 2-year-old male Goro. I found the
blinding white Goro at my gate on my birthday. He was tiny and half
dead with hunger, but he was a gift from God. He adores Choco.
Perhaps they were lovers in a previous life.
P.S. Thank you Anita for contributing this post on the 9 very special dogs that have shared your life. I asked Kyara, the sole diva cat in my extended family to critique it. Here's what she had to say:
"Maybe I need glasses, but I don't quite see what all the fuss is about. How can people make so much of these slobberers and shiverers and stalkers? We cats show far more restraint, sophistication and grace.
Nevertheless, this is an excellent piece and I give it 9 Cat's Whiskers. Now, if you will excuse me, I have some important business that I have to return to. Where's that lizard?"
P.S.2: The MUST MUST MUST READ books for you dog and pet lovers are Dean Koontz's A Big Little Life and Garth Stein's The Art of Racing in the Rain. You will find the links below. Also included is a link to Circe, a full-length novel by Anita, and the link to Anita's website.
http://www.anitasaran.com
by Anita Saran
I've always had dogs. As far back as I can remember. During my
childhood there was Tommy on whose back I used to ride. And the
Nameless One who went rabid and bit me, leading to those painful shots
in my tummy.
There was the mutt Bunty, a beautiful fawn colour who
would follow Father's car in Bokaro. Father brought him along when he
moved to Bangalore many years ago while I was in Loreto College,
Darjeeling. Bunty ran away.
It's the saddest when pets get lost.
I remember when I lost my favourite dog, Rasputin who reminded me of
the Beast in Disney's animated 'Beauty and the Beast.' He was the
progeny of the Lhasa Apso, Rapunzel of the golden locks, gifted to me
by Minoo. Rappy, as I called her, mated with a friend's Cocker Spaniel
which resulted in Rasputin, Jigsaw and another pup that I gave to one
of my friends.
Rasputin had a shaggy black coat and a long white beard and moustache.
When he ran, his long ears flapped in the wind. I called him my Shadow
Dog because he followed me everywhere.
When he went missing, I put out posters with his photo in the stores
and waited a whole month during which I hollered for him on the
streets and wept in the nights. Having dabbled in Egyptian magic for
some years, I decided to resort to the ancient Golden Thread ritual.
It involves pulling in the object of your desire with the help of an
invisible golden thread.
Incredibly, the next day, my maid said that her daughter worked in a
house with a dog of Rasputin's description.
Thrilled that my magic had worked, I armed myself with a photograph of
Rasputin and me and accompanied the maid to the house. He was sitting
chained to the door. His locks were shorn and when he saw me, he began
to shiver with love and excitement in that old familiar way.
The photo did the rest.
These people had found him somewhere (he'd gone after some female
company) and taken him in.
That's incredible, isn't it?
Another time I took him with me in my car to Nandi Hills where he
suddenly disappeared from view. I could hear him howling and could see
a troop of monkeys looking over the brink of the hill in the
direction of the sound.
Fearing that he had fallen off the hill and was probably in his death
throes, I looked over the hillside and found him a few feet below on a
ledge. I cannot describe the waves of relief which swept over me. Two
very kind young men fetched him for me.
If it wasn't for the monkeys, I wouldn't have found my dog.
Before he died in 2004, he waited a long time for me spend some time
with him. I used to teach English to a Japanese gentleman in those
days. When Rasputin suddenly collapsed one morning before I left the
house, I took him along, thinking I would take him to the veterinary
hospital in Hebbal after the class.
He waited two hours for me in the car. In the hospital, the vet
examined him and said he was in a critical condition, and had been ill
for some months. At 14, he was too old for surgery. I was amazed. My
Shadow Dog had never even hinted at his illness.
After a couple of hours, when I carried him out, he suddenly yelped
and collapsed. I rushed him back in, but he was gone. My only solace
was my spiritual mentor who was there with me throughout. She said he
loved me so much that he had waited in that critical state to spend
some time with me. He had waited to die in my arms.
There is so much we can learn from our pets. As The Buddha pointed out, they are our relatives from previous lives. They also possess "Buddha nature" and are capable of enlightenment.You can read more about the Buddhist perspective on animals here.
I cried so much for Rasputin that my spiritual mentor told me to get a
hold of myself. Attachment is not love.
Rasputin still comes to me in my dreams to play with me. Whenever he
seems sad, I pray for him. The last time I saw him, he had aloe vera
growing from his head.
Jigsaw died at the ripe old age of 18. A few months before his
passing, I was recovering from a major surgery in my hometown, far
from Bangalore. I had left my doggies in the care of my son who lives
on a farm on the outskirts of the city.
After about a month, and still not fully recovered, I dreamed of an
unwell Jigsaw. A couple of days later I returned to Bangalore and
found Jigsaw seriously ill. He wouldn't have survived if I hadn't got
back in time.
Our pets communicate with us. We just have to see the signs.
Then there was the mongrel Chutki - a colony dog I had adopted. Big
brown loving eyes. She used to be a most agile dog, nimble-footed,
jumping over walls. After falling sick, she lingered on for a whole
year much to the surprise of the vet. According to my Guru, Chutki
had taken some of my illness upon herself.
We owe much more to our pets than we know.
About a year ago, we gave Chutki a grand burial in my garden. Incense,
flowers and a libation of milk which she used to love.
Today I still have Bismarcki, born of Rappy and Rasputin. She follows
me everywhere too and shivers with love just like Rasputin.
I also have the super intelligent Choco - a beautiful brown and white
stray who sucks marrow out of bones and can tell exactly when I'm
finished with my computer, and the 2-year-old male Goro. I found the
blinding white Goro at my gate on my birthday. He was tiny and half
dead with hunger, but he was a gift from God. He adores Choco.
Perhaps they were lovers in a previous life.
P.S. Thank you Anita for contributing this post on the 9 very special dogs that have shared your life. I asked Kyara, the sole diva cat in my extended family to critique it. Here's what she had to say:
P.S.2: The MUST MUST MUST READ books for you dog and pet lovers are Dean Koontz's A Big Little Life and Garth Stein's The Art of Racing in the Rain. You will find the links below. Also included is a link to Circe, a full-length novel by Anita, and the link to Anita's website.
http://www.anitasaran.com
There is no psychiatrist in the world
like a puppy licking your face - Ben Williams
5 comments:
Anita: A lovely essay on the relationships you had with your amazing dogs. This was a pleasure to read on many levels. Thank you!
Anita very well Written! kyara was great Too!! I have read Art of Racing. Very good book!!
Thank you so much for reading!
Anita
Thank you Anita for authoring this great post and thanks readers Betty and Bluebethley for the praise. I look forward to future posts from Anita and future critiques from the feline sophisticate
Our Teddy -fawn colour,half alsatian tugged my dress and looked at me with meaningful eyes which were red, before he was taken to a vet at Jayanagar...
Later on I came to know that he had very high BP and his digestive track was infested with worms.
He circled my father who was with my brother in the clinic and died at his feet .
Aarathi.
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