It’s only four in the morning and already you are wide awake. As always, the first thing you must do today is take him for a walk. You stare up at the ceiling for a while, groggy eyed but alert. It has been raining since last night. You can hear the pitter patter of raindrops against your window. You always loved the rains. Gloomy skies, cosy socks and chai. But you are waiting for it to stop or slow down so that you both don’t get drenched. You can’t risk him falling sick. The last time he got a fever, he was moping around the entire house. It almost broke your heart. He would lie in his favourite corner, wagging his tail when you got home. When the doctor came over, he said that his legs aren’t as strong anymore.
You had been so worried. You couldn’t think about anything else. Even at work, all you could think about if he was doing okay. That fat fluffy golden retriever is your best friend. He first came into your life when you were in 10th grade. Being an only child has its perks. You threw a tantrum that you wouldn’t write your board exams unless you get a puppy. A few sullen weeks later, mom and dad complied. You couldn’t wait to hold him. Wrapped in a blanket, hidden in a basket, it was love at first sight. You never knew how much you wanted him, how much you needed him until you had him. As you picked him up, he let out a small yawn, and his soft, tiny paws clung on to you for support. He looked up at you, his brown eyes too big for his tiny face, uncertain of whether he could trust you. A few seconds later, he decided he could. And so he promptly peed on you. You didn’t mind. You were already in love.
Growing up was fun. He destroyed the garden, specially loved digging up mom’s bonsai. No bird would dare step into the yard. All the people could though. He was exceptionally friendly. He chewed everything. It’s hard to believe but that tiny thing chewed through walls. You had to put chilli powder on corners to stop him from getting through the distemper. Training school was a disaster. He was never really the obedient type. He was a wild spirit. You scolded him when he ran away from the mean trainer, but you gave him ice-cream that night. He knew that he was home with you. Going to college was hard. But he waited for you. The first summer break you came home, that evening, he chewed up you new sneakers. You cried. It was just like old times. Nothing had changed. He was still him, you were still you.
He’s been here for everything – your college days, when you first moved out on your own, your first job, your first house, your first real boyfriend, your wedding (he was too hyper to be the ring bearer, we had to do with the niece instead), losing mom and your marriage falling apart. Every time your life fell apart, he sat by you as your tried to pick up the pieces and start again. When you moved after the divorce, he came along. You wanted to start afresh, make some new memories. But he would always be by your side. He’s the one who actually made this drab city livable. Every day, after office, you come home to him, his big brown eyes sparkling with joy at your arrival. He’d wag his tail, bring you Lilo, his old, battered teddy bear that was missing an eye (from the time he dragged it while chasing the birds), and you’d sit on the floor with him. Every day.
On weekends, you strap him in the passenger seat and drive off to somewhere new. He’d wear a bandana on sunny days, a raincoat on rainy ones like today. Some weekends you’d go on a trek. The Western Ghats offer beautiful views. A smile lights up your face as you remember the time he ate a bee. His mouth was swollen for a week. You had to mince all his food and feed him by hand. You think of the time when you went to the ruins of a fort on the island nearby to watch the sun set over the sea. It was high tide and he was scared of the water. You had to carry him on your shoulder from the boat to the beach. People were staring. The kids laughed.
He’s getting old now, you realize. You knew he would, eventually, but you don’t want him to. You aren’t prepared for this. Could anyone really be prepared? You notice him sleeping in the corner of the room. He’s your calm in the eye of the storm. There’s grey around his temples. His labored breathing as he dreams keeps you awake at night. If only you could hold onto the reins of time. The room is silent. You realize, the rain has stopped. You gently wake him up; it’s time for his walk.
Text by Divyanjana Prashansa
Illustration by Sanjana Acharya
Article 19 