It has been widely agreed on that dogs make great companions, that they make every moment worth living. I only happened to realise this truth when I got myself a dog. It's so rare for me to acknowledge the fact that my dog is a dog that many of my friends, of course the ones without dogs, find it funny. Truth be told, for me, my dog is so much more than just a pet. He has changed me in ways that were unfathomable, even for my mother. A wave of patience, compassion and love was introduced into my life with the advent of the tiny ball of fur.
Yes, he was really very tiny. All black, furry and very funny looking. I swear I was scared out of my wits when he wriggled out of the box he was brought in because he looked nothing like a pup. But then again, I had never actually seen a pup that young. (He was barely 20 days old when we brought him home.)
It took me a whole hour to get used to his ever so light shivering and the almost audible chattering of his teeth. He was in no way what I would call cute. But I started taking a liking for the little guy, after all it was due to my constant nagging that dad had agreed on getting a dog.
I wanted to name my dog Cookie. But one look at the little shivering ball of fur, I decided to call him Lucky.
My parents were relieved when they saw how quiet and soft the pup was, they had no idea what they were in for... until that night.
As the evening turned to night, we put little Lucky in a cardboard box and placed it in the patio. We had decided to get him a cage of his own (to sleep in when he wanted, of course) sometime later. At around midnight, we were woken up by this little howling noise we weren't accustomed to. Quickly flicking on the lights, we found that the little pup had somehow climbed out of the box. He was exploring the living room, howling at the walls, searching for his mother/his siblings. I felt a knot in my stomach watching the little being searching helplessly for his family that he'd never see again. That was when I promised myself to look after him, to give him all the love he deserved and to make him feel home. And that is exactly what we all did.
We never see him as a pet, he's more like an adopted (and a very spoiled) kid of our family.
I still remember his first day around our place. The way he stuttered around, marking everything as his territory, his first bark which was more like a little cough, the way he gobbled up the puppy food like he hadn't eaten in ages. Everything about that day feels so real, so fresh although it is over three years since then.
I would carry him around on my palm and he would whimper and dig into the skin on my hand whenever he felt cold. He was so warm, so tiny, so vulnerable - anything but cute. And yet, he had stolen my heart away. And I knew I'd never love anyone again as much as I love him, and it still stands true as it always will.
The little pup grew up, every passing day he'd baffle us with a new stunt, with a new headache. The time when he got his front paw twisted in a cloth and I had felt my heart reach my throat and he was so scared we were sure he'd learn a lesson from. Yet the mischievous glint in his eyes kept glowing ablaze and we sure knew we were going to have our hands full with him.
Many collar belts and leashes were bought that he miraculously got out of and dashed out of the gates, so many angry moments spent where I'd shout at him for running away in spite of all the care, nothing seemed to go into his thick skull. He seemed to be more interested in the streets than in being with us and that really broke my heart. By then, he had become even lesser of a pet and more of a best friend, a confidant.
Apart from the running away from home episodes, there was not one thing you could scold him for. He was a well behaved kid from the very first day.
As he grew up into an adult, as if he started realising how much he matters to us, he stopped trying to escape. He understood what role he played for us, he realised how much everyone cares for him. Our entire extension knows Lucky but not me. And trust me, he's not even that friendly. He still barks at all the neighbours when they come home, who he funnily happens to like being fed by.
At this point of time, I'm so used to having him around that I miss his oh-so-doggy smell when I leave for the hostel. I miss his greeting me in the mornings, his tail wagging, his notorious face, the incessant barking... everything about the boy when I'm away from him.
I can never love anyone as much as I love him because he stole my heart (probably gobbled it up, even) exactly thirty nine months ago and I'm not sure I want my now drooled on heart back.
All this was jotted while watching the handsome lad do rolls on the floor, trying to get my mother's attention. I swear you don't need any other sort of entertainment when you have him around, he's all the entertainment you'd ever need. If dogs are angels, Lucky is my angel with golden wings.
Yes, he was really very tiny. All black, furry and very funny looking. I swear I was scared out of my wits when he wriggled out of the box he was brought in because he looked nothing like a pup. But then again, I had never actually seen a pup that young. (He was barely 20 days old when we brought him home.)
It took me a whole hour to get used to his ever so light shivering and the almost audible chattering of his teeth. He was in no way what I would call cute. But I started taking a liking for the little guy, after all it was due to my constant nagging that dad had agreed on getting a dog.
I wanted to name my dog Cookie. But one look at the little shivering ball of fur, I decided to call him Lucky.
My parents were relieved when they saw how quiet and soft the pup was, they had no idea what they were in for... until that night.
As the evening turned to night, we put little Lucky in a cardboard box and placed it in the patio. We had decided to get him a cage of his own (to sleep in when he wanted, of course) sometime later. At around midnight, we were woken up by this little howling noise we weren't accustomed to. Quickly flicking on the lights, we found that the little pup had somehow climbed out of the box. He was exploring the living room, howling at the walls, searching for his mother/his siblings. I felt a knot in my stomach watching the little being searching helplessly for his family that he'd never see again. That was when I promised myself to look after him, to give him all the love he deserved and to make him feel home. And that is exactly what we all did.
We never see him as a pet, he's more like an adopted (and a very spoiled) kid of our family.
I still remember his first day around our place. The way he stuttered around, marking everything as his territory, his first bark which was more like a little cough, the way he gobbled up the puppy food like he hadn't eaten in ages. Everything about that day feels so real, so fresh although it is over three years since then.
I would carry him around on my palm and he would whimper and dig into the skin on my hand whenever he felt cold. He was so warm, so tiny, so vulnerable - anything but cute. And yet, he had stolen my heart away. And I knew I'd never love anyone again as much as I love him, and it still stands true as it always will.
The little pup grew up, every passing day he'd baffle us with a new stunt, with a new headache. The time when he got his front paw twisted in a cloth and I had felt my heart reach my throat and he was so scared we were sure he'd learn a lesson from. Yet the mischievous glint in his eyes kept glowing ablaze and we sure knew we were going to have our hands full with him.
Many collar belts and leashes were bought that he miraculously got out of and dashed out of the gates, so many angry moments spent where I'd shout at him for running away in spite of all the care, nothing seemed to go into his thick skull. He seemed to be more interested in the streets than in being with us and that really broke my heart. By then, he had become even lesser of a pet and more of a best friend, a confidant.
Apart from the running away from home episodes, there was not one thing you could scold him for. He was a well behaved kid from the very first day.
As he grew up into an adult, as if he started realising how much he matters to us, he stopped trying to escape. He understood what role he played for us, he realised how much everyone cares for him. Our entire extension knows Lucky but not me. And trust me, he's not even that friendly. He still barks at all the neighbours when they come home, who he funnily happens to like being fed by.
At this point of time, I'm so used to having him around that I miss his oh-so-doggy smell when I leave for the hostel. I miss his greeting me in the mornings, his tail wagging, his notorious face, the incessant barking... everything about the boy when I'm away from him.
I can never love anyone as much as I love him because he stole my heart (probably gobbled it up, even) exactly thirty nine months ago and I'm not sure I want my now drooled on heart back.
All this was jotted while watching the handsome lad do rolls on the floor, trying to get my mother's attention. I swear you don't need any other sort of entertainment when you have him around, he's all the entertainment you'd ever need. If dogs are angels, Lucky is my angel with golden wings.
