I know a dog, a black Labrador, owned by a friend of mine. He is huge and fat, being very well cared for, and also lazy, except when it comes to visitors to my friend's home. If you love dogs, you'll probably fall in love with him the moment you see him, like I did, and you'll never have a peaceful moment during your visit, since the dog will simply try to jump on you and tear you up in his excitement. If you show the slightest sign of being scared, God bless you. This is a dog that likes to scare people for fun, and will capitalize handsomely on the slightest sign of fear that you show.
But there are other animals in our lives too, besides the pets of our friends. Most of us do not bother to think about them, simply because they don't really have a ground shattering effect on our lives.
This junior in college recently brought to me a little box, containing three little baby rats. They were almost newly born, not more than a week old, and could sniff around, though not one could open its eyes. The mother may have abandoned them, but my juniors didn't have the heart to. They even inquired at a vet's if there was any sort of protective vaccination available. Sadly there was none, but last I heard, they have been trying to devise effective ways of feeding the little babies.
Then there's this mother cat in my hostel, who moves around with two beautiful kittens that bear the same colouring that she does. Kittens are such tiny delicate creatures. Cats are known to be rather aloof: they don't like being petted the way dogs do. They don't trust humans too much either. I managed to touch the cat, but she was averse to it and showed it too. The kittens moved away entirely from my range of touch.
The kitten tale reminds me of the kitten on Borivali Station in Mumbai. Another little baby probably abandoned by its mother, or perhaps orphaned. Feeble and cold, it tried to warm itself by sitting between my legs. My friend and I realized that we could not possibly take the kitten back with us, since neither he nor I would be able to take care of it properly. We tried to feed it, and it responded by climbing up into my lap on its own.
On a jog one cold morning in October, another friend and I found a litter of five pups lying bang in the middle of the road with no mother. It's common enough for the mother to give birth just about anywhere, though she does try to find a warm place which could be safe too. Stray dogs die easily, because if they aren't poisoned by unscrupulous householders or crushed by speeding vehicles, they are killed in fights with other dogs. These pups weren't newborn, but they didn't land up in the middle of the road by accident and were shivering badly. We thought to shift them to the bushes by the side of the road, and perhaps get some kind of cloth to serve as a blanket. The puppies didn't object to being touched, but the wail set up by them on being picked up brought the mother out of the nearby bushes where she had been resting onto the road, barking angrily. That was unnerving, but still reassuring. All mothers are indeed fiercely protective of their young.
Another jogging trip brought us to another puppy, this time alone, with no mother or siblings in sight. Pups are never born alone, but always in a litter, and while growing they rarely move far from each other. This little one had strayed away quite a bit, and though shivering in the cold, was not weak. It was sniffing quietly, looking lost and sad. My friend and I were wiser this time, and only remained with it till it wandered off on its own. It didn't object outright to being touched, but I don't think it liked it either. Stray dogs seem to be born with a sort of instinctive fear of being touched by humans. They need to be taught to like the touch, as pet dogs do.
I am reminded of the time when a young neighbour of mine brought to me a baby squirrel that he had found. That one had fallen out of its hole or nest wherever that was, and the mother hadn't retrieved it yet. If left on the ground without protection, the baby was likely to be eaten by a larger animal such as a cat or dog, which was why my friend picked it up. Squirrels hate to be touched even more than cats do, and this one had to be held cunningly so that it couldn't escape. It did manage to free its head for a few seconds though, and neatly sank its front teeth into my hand. They have really sharp teeth, needed for cutting and breaking through the seeds, nuts and pods that they eat. I am a creature large enough to be able to bear the pain of a squirrel bite, but that was a moment to be treasured, being bitten by a squirrel.
This other time, a squirrel got lost in my house. It found its way in and couldn't get out. For three days my mother and I chased it all through the house from room to room, and finally managed to corner it behind a door. I would have liked to tame it and keep it as a pet, but my folks won't abide animals, so I received the honour of releasing it back into the domestic wild from whence it came.
There was also once a toad that jumped into the kitchen, and this one we trapped under a bucket and led out of the house. And there was also the occasion when a young sparrow found its way into our house. At night too, so it took an hour of chasing and constantly light switching to enable it to find its way to the open air outside. That didn't help completely either, because the best we were able to do was guide it to the room with the largest window. We had to trap it and then release it. It wasn't a full grown adult; it could be held easily with two fingers and a thumb. The beating of its heart was faster and harder than I'd ever felt in my own pulse.
There is this lady who sells roasted corn stalks in the evenings right outside the college gate. There is a dog that frequents her stall, though keeping a distance, hoping to salvage a few grains from discarded stalks once people finish eating. My friend and I fed it a few grains at first one evening, feeling sorry for it. It wouldn't come any closer than five feet to us, so we left the grains on the sidewalk a little bit away. It lapped up the grains hungrily, not leaving a single one. We couldn't help it. We tore out and gave the remaining grains from the stalk as well. Even the gift of food wouldn't encourage enough trust in the animal to come closer to us. We had to leave everything at a safe distance from ourselves to encourage him to eat it. The slightest extension of a hand would drive him away.
There are a few dogs that frequent the tea stalls outside college in the mornings. These dogs are often fed biscuits by the people who come to jog on the college grounds. I once expressed a desire to my friend, the owner of the black Labrador, to feed them too. "Do it," he said. "I assure you, you won't ever regret it."
