I was a kid when he was hit by a drunkard. He was badly hurt. The accident was devastating. That bloody drunkard rode over him and fled. It broke his backbone and he lost sensation in his hind legs.
I don’t actually remember any of this happening. But as a 21 year old now , I remember all his goofy actions. How much he used to love me, how he would never leave me alone, how he would always guard me in mumma’s absence. All these years I have grown up listening to his stories. The pride he used to take in being a part of my clan and the love he used to shower on us. He was our Moti, named after his pearl like glistening eyes.
My mother still recalls that fateful day of the accident and how things changed for everybody in the family after that , specially for Moti and mumma. Mom would consider him as her own little baby. I can still see water drops twinkling in her eyes whenever she talks of him. This shows the love they shared. I have heard from her that Moti was not well that day when grandpa scolded him for littering in the verandah. Moti was just not at home after this incident. He left house that evening , not to come back ever again. Everybody in the house searched for him frantically , a massive hunt was on for him, only to be of no use. Grandpa used to shout his name from terrace hopelessly hoping that he would come back. But like he had made up his mind not to come back to place where he felt insulted. I was 2 when he abandoned us.
So growing up in the care of such a lady : an ardent dog lover obviously I was also supposed to be one. Biologically, the genes have left nothing behind to transfer this trait in me.
All these stories always provoked me to own one dog for myself. But it was like mumma had vowed that she will not give Moti’s place to any other pet. She always brushed our demand or request to parent a dog. It straightaway went into the trash.
But I got an opportunity once in her absence and I grabbed it! Now, I also have my dog , my own!
To be continued……