A Tearful Adieu

I opened the gate and walked in, dragging my heavy baggage. There was a grim silence all around. No one acknowledged the sound of my footsteps, I didn’t hear the barking nor did I see the little daschund come running wagging her tail. Ammu wasn’t there. I rang up mom to the office. “I am sorry aami. Ammu is gone” . Her voice trailed off…

Six years back, on a cozy September evening ,  my parents came home with a little surprise for me. In a shoe box there twinkled two eyes ! I held the puppy closer. And since then ammu was family. Those droopy long ears, little paws, the shiny black fur, the twinkling eyes, one glance and you fell for her charm.

She wasn’t the perfect superdog we usually saw in the movies. She was scared of the car horn, pooped anywhere she found comfortable, tore away the door mat, soiled my white canvas shoes, she did everything an untrained, unleashed dog would do. Even if I yelled at her she would come back and lick me all over, bark at every one who passed by, she whined on rainy nights, she’d withdraw to her kennel during vishu scared of the sound of crackers, ran to eat the fallen ripe papayas and mangoes, bite of the flower petals from pookkalam during onam, jumping at the sound of my school van in the evening, prancing around when she was happy. 
              
       She never really grasped the concept of ‘fetch’. Whenever I threw something and yelled fetch she’d run to get it and then kept it for herself. My homecomings were celebrated with barks and the tail wags, triggering the saga of missing shoes and the endless whining at nights that ruined my sleep. Those fun times when my sister and I would call her ‘bitch’ and mom would scold us for swearing at her…

Those dreary nights when I felt blue I sat in the balcony with ammu, talking and she’d stare at me with eyes that seemed to be sympathetic as if she understood every word of what I mumbled. Those eyes gave me an assurance that everything was going to be okay.

She fell sick last week, wouldn’t eat or get up. Ammu is gone. But I haven’t  gotten over this fact yet. I have become so used to her being around that I still don’t honk the car horn thinking it would scare her off, I wouldn’t leave the door unbolted thinking she’d sneak in, I call out 'ammu' thinking she’d come running. Now I see cats invading her territory, scraping off dad’s scooter cushions, for their arch rival is not around anymore. Now, the torn door mat is a painful reminder of mom yelling at her. Yesterday I was at the balcony and I knew what was missing.

I know it is just a dog. But it doesn’t take much time before they leave a footprint on your white tiled floor and your heart...