When he came to live with me Tony was a bag of bones. Battered and bruised, his bare pink skin without fur showed the extent of a life on the street. The years had taken their toll. He was exhausted and losing the will to live.
A large bandage around his neck protected him against further damage. The maggots had made a gaping hole.
It took a while but his misty eyes began to clear. His fur started to grow back. Those bones now had flesh on them. What a star!
And then it happened, someone walked too close to his gate and he barked. Just the once. A beautiful moment.
It is about to turn 6 am here in England. There is an unusual calmness ( of late) outside. The air is warm. The dog snores gently and my first coffee of the day has been drunk. So far so good, as ‘ notable’ has many layers. One can only hope for the best, that the day will go smoothly, Perhaps ‘nothing notable’ is the safest bet, for today.
My heart feels heavy as the tragedy of the London bound Air India flight fills my mind. The shock, the sadness and grief in that part of the world will be palpable.
Life will go on, but the world has stopped spinning for the families, friends, the loved ones of the perished souls.
The one sole survivor, the young man who walked away, my thoughts turn to him. Despite having just a few visible cuts and scratches, his emotions will surely be running deep….
If you had to change your name, what would your new name be?
On socials I go by Ella, which is a pretty name I think. Can’t remember the moment I chose it…Just happened, I reckon.
But today I want to tell you how one of my dogs got his name.
Soooo, I’m living and working in Southern India, with a well-paid job and a super lifestyle…and then it all goes to hell in a handcart when I fall in love with a four-legged broken soul, called Tony.
I leave the job and he and I move out of my lux accommodation into a sweet little house in a village called Palavakkam. There’s no AC with generator back-up, just ceiling fans….the power cuts are notorious. But that’s another story. In fact there are lots of other stories.
Without paid employment, my once a week helping the Blue Cross of India stint became full time. Their ABC ( Animal Birth Control) programme was quite something.
The job entailed daily visiting a chosen area to collect up to twenty street dogs ( I think, can’t remember exactly how many, twenty plus, maybe) They would be taken back to the centre. Boys and girls separated, given a health check, a rabies shot and then the op) The boys recovered faster, but when they were all fit we took them back to exactly where we had found them, on another day. They had one ear clipped( just a little) so they could be identified on the street as having had the procedure.
This helped to keep the population of street dogs down. I was informed once upon a time they would be thrown live down wells. Today around the world horrible methods are still used.
One night after work the van dropped me at the end of my road and I walked to my house in tears. Nothing unusual there, the daily stress and distress needed to manifest somehow. It broke my heart to see so many animals in such bad shape, on a daily basis.
Dusk was falling but ahead of me I could see a tiny pup hanging out with a group of grown dogs. His coat was a mess and probably didn’t feel great but his spirit was alive and kicking.
I picked him up and asked around if anyone knew where he came from, if by any chance he did at all. A lady told me he had been ‘ thrown over the wall, by that house there’. To make sure I was doing everything correctly as far as the charity and my conscience were concerned I approached the gates of the property, to ask about the ownership of the pup- happily snoozing on my arms.
In no uncertain terms I was assured his welfare was not their concern.
I took him home ( lovely story to be told here, another day) My ‘big dog’ Tony took it on the chin and allowed the pup to enter.
Plan A was to take Pup to the Blue Cross centre to be cared for and hopefully rehomed. But if you know me you’ll know I wasn’t going to be able to part with him easily.
My ex workmate and friend Mary often came to visit. The pup would tug at the edges of her sari. She was kind, we laughed, he was naughty. But it was okay.
So, I had this dilemma. What to do about Pup?
I had tentative plans about returning to the UK. My work visa would run out eventually and although I know it could have ‘ been arranged ‘ ( many things can be arranged in India- no disrespect meant to the country or government workers, I hasten to add!) I didn’t really want to put anyone in that position, to do me that favour. A pity really, under different circumstances I would have been happy to stay there.
Sister Mary, Mary ( a native of Bangalore) had been a co-worker, an amazing loyal friend with a sense of humour I adored. She became everything to me and still is..good friend, sister, mother, daughter, everything.
When she knew I was troubled about the future of Pup, she said she would take him as her own. A visit was arranged and off we went to meet her family. It was then I thought, yes, she a devout catholic was Mary ….He would be Joseph..Joe.
Pup had a fabulous time, running around, connecting with everyone and being adorable….and then ..he ran to me, looked me straight in the face and said ‘ that was great, can we go home now?’! Joe was going nowhere without me.
I brought him to the UK, with Tony, in October 2005 and he lived a long and happy life.
After thought ..
Dr. Chinny who ran the Blue Cross of India in Chennai offered me a gig in the back end of beyond helping street dogs. I turned it down as I believed my family at some stage may need me and I couldn’t get back to the UK quickly. They never did….
Write about a time when you didn’t take action but wish you had. What would you do differently?
We are all flawed. Simple as. There are many many things over the years I wish I had done differently and it doesn’t make me feel great to think about them. But there is one, about writing….and that’s why we’re here after all. So it seems apt to tell you about it.
Many moons ago. Getting on for 25 years, I guess, I had an idea for a children’s picture book. I was living overseas and with a co- worker had the charge of three small children 24/6. It was a great job and we travelled the world together….but that’s a different story.
I want to tell you about the dog and the crow. At that time I was reading a lot to the kids. Several times a day, at least. So I got to know what they enjoyed. Which books were their favourites.
As I was living in India at the time I chose to base my story there. A street dog and a crow were standing over a puddle. They were having a face-off….The crow didn’t trust the dog to go first because he would drink all the water..and the dog didn’t want the crow to go first because by taking a bath in the puddle, it would become dirty and not fit to drink. So they squabbled and squabbled and in the meantime the sun was shining so brightly it dried up the puddle. Leaving them both with nothing.
I loved the story, but realised the graphics would be a bit lame. Only a dog a crow and a puddle on each page. So I put it aside, did nothing with it. Very short sighted of me!
What I should have done is find an amazing illustrator who could bring the story alive with their artwork. Early years children love all the little picture details that accompany a tale.
With the story set in India there were all manner of animals, wildlife, people watching on. The pages could have been filled with wonderment. It could have been a lovely children’s book.
IN THE BOOMER PIGEON HOLE? 