The husband and I are no strangers to having animals around us. Each of us has animal stories from our childhood. Embarrassingly, both our mothers love to retell them in a social setting.
Our interaction with animals naturally went from petting them, to feeding them, to taking care of them when they are ill and/or hurt. Which is exactly what we've been doing for X number of years. X stands for a number we no longer remember and who's counting anyways.
Our home can be a veritable menagerie of ailing animals since our efforts are self-initiated and self-funded. Boo was one such pariah who entered our house as an inmate and promptly took it over.
Our first memories of her are from a little over three years ago. She'd had a litter in winter. She was scrawny as were the pups. None of them survived. That year, we treated her for scars, scratches and bites. She pledged her allegiance to the husband. He was hers and she lit up every time she saw him. Till date, all her special affection and attention is only reserved for this human. Her human. The rest of us just happen to exist in the same dimension.
The year after that, she had another litter. She lost all her babies again. This time, most of them died in agony. Run over by vehicles, mangled. She never did recover from their deaths.We vowed to get her neutered. That year, she also had a broken toe. A kind friend offered to drive us to the vet in his car. It was her first ride in a vehicle that wasn't the dog catcher's van. She didn't know it wasn't the dog catcher's van. Poor Boo was scared and car-sick. She vomited all over the back seat. We vowed to hire rickshaws next time and always carry newspapers. Always.
We had Boo neutered in 2012. She lost a bit of blood on the table and spent a little over 10 days recuperating at our home. Rickshaws had become her favourite thing next to chicken and the husband since she discovered that the way to our home was rickshaw-hop away. And at home were both chicken and the husband!
When she missed us, she'd climb into familiar rickshaws sans us, sometimes, sans humans altogether. Since, the drivers now knew us as 'that crazy couple that always has povidone iodine and Parle G'; they called to tell us how Boo was currently standing in their auto and expecting them to drive her to our home. Could we please come and do something about it? And off we'd go, every single time and bring her home. She'd stay for a while, then ask us to drop her back. She was a good house-guest who didn't overstay her welcome.
We left home every morning to meet her. If the husband was being lazy, I'd quip, "Boo is waiting." That'd have him out the house in 5 minutes, tousled hair and crinkly eyes. And Boo would be waiting, wagging her bum-tail and doing a little jig at the appearance of tousled hair. And so this routine kept up for a few months until the husband left town for work. His usual trips were never more than a couple of days. This one was turning out to be longish. On previous trips, when Boo missed the husband, she'd follow all the usual suspects she'd seen hang around with him. Her logic was that they'd lead her to him. This time she followed me. All the way home.
I decided to humour her and took her home. I assumed that she'd see that the husband wasn't around and ask to be dropped back. She stayed the day. Then another and another. She waited for three whole days when on the third she was rewarded. The hubby was back. She got him and he got her. I'd been EBed into taking a blanket call. Boo stays, from now on and and forever!
Our interaction with animals naturally went from petting them, to feeding them, to taking care of them when they are ill and/or hurt. Which is exactly what we've been doing for X number of years. X stands for a number we no longer remember and who's counting anyways.
Our home can be a veritable menagerie of ailing animals since our efforts are self-initiated and self-funded. Boo was one such pariah who entered our house as an inmate and promptly took it over.
Our first memories of her are from a little over three years ago. She'd had a litter in winter. She was scrawny as were the pups. None of them survived. That year, we treated her for scars, scratches and bites. She pledged her allegiance to the husband. He was hers and she lit up every time she saw him. Till date, all her special affection and attention is only reserved for this human. Her human. The rest of us just happen to exist in the same dimension.
The year after that, she had another litter. She lost all her babies again. This time, most of them died in agony. Run over by vehicles, mangled. She never did recover from their deaths.We vowed to get her neutered. That year, she also had a broken toe. A kind friend offered to drive us to the vet in his car. It was her first ride in a vehicle that wasn't the dog catcher's van. She didn't know it wasn't the dog catcher's van. Poor Boo was scared and car-sick. She vomited all over the back seat. We vowed to hire rickshaws next time and always carry newspapers. Always.
We had Boo neutered in 2012. She lost a bit of blood on the table and spent a little over 10 days recuperating at our home. Rickshaws had become her favourite thing next to chicken and the husband since she discovered that the way to our home was rickshaw-hop away. And at home were both chicken and the husband!
When she missed us, she'd climb into familiar rickshaws sans us, sometimes, sans humans altogether. Since, the drivers now knew us as 'that crazy couple that always has povidone iodine and Parle G'; they called to tell us how Boo was currently standing in their auto and expecting them to drive her to our home. Could we please come and do something about it? And off we'd go, every single time and bring her home. She'd stay for a while, then ask us to drop her back. She was a good house-guest who didn't overstay her welcome.
We left home every morning to meet her. If the husband was being lazy, I'd quip, "Boo is waiting." That'd have him out the house in 5 minutes, tousled hair and crinkly eyes. And Boo would be waiting, wagging her bum-tail and doing a little jig at the appearance of tousled hair. And so this routine kept up for a few months until the husband left town for work. His usual trips were never more than a couple of days. This one was turning out to be longish. On previous trips, when Boo missed the husband, she'd follow all the usual suspects she'd seen hang around with him. Her logic was that they'd lead her to him. This time she followed me. All the way home.
I decided to humour her and took her home. I assumed that she'd see that the husband wasn't around and ask to be dropped back. She stayed the day. Then another and another. She waited for three whole days when on the third she was rewarded. The hubby was back. She got him and he got her. I'd been EBed into taking a blanket call. Boo stays, from now on and and forever!
Can never forget when she walks up to me, probably taking me for Pradeep (tousled hair and beard), and looking up to me with wondering eyes asking, "Why you no play with me?". If only I was allowed animals. Sighhh.....
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