SILKY

This pattern, black spots on white reminds me of someone very special...her name was silky. She was my pet, a very, very cute cocker spaniel. She is no more, but I cant love her any less, any day...my post this time is dedicated to my cute little pet, my darling.

It was 11 August, 1996. On that day, I had recieved the biggest surprise of my life. When I was back from school, I saw this lump of fur sitting at my grandfather's foot. My first reaction was that of shock, but when I realized who had come, my world whirled with happiness! When Silky was young, she used to be a naughty little pup. Always wanting to be chased around the roads of our colony, she sure was giving us a hard but blissful time. Every time you would want go out of our house, you could open the gate just enough for yourself to come through it. An inch more, and there was silky, tale wagging, a wicked smile almost on her face, running like the wind out of the house. And the game of chase would begin again.

She hated to be patted on the nose. Her tiny nose would curl up in irritation if your hand wandered just around it. There was no one else in the world who could make me happier by just getting angry with me! Then there were times when she would be lying around with her eyes closed. I would go near her, wanting to play with her. And she would keep pretending to be asleep. Eyes tightly closed, tail wagging furiously, she would wait for me to cajole her to no end to wake up. Of course, I knew by that rocket speed small tail that she wasnt really sound asleep, yet I loved to entertain her! A very bad habit of her childhood, which we got rid of pretty hastily, was the habit of chewing off people's shoes. She would snuggle up to one of our chappals, and a few hours later, the chappal was no more. She then discovered the joy of chewing a tennis ball to shreds. And so, the tennis ball came to be her favourite toy. A very frustating time while playing with Silky was when we used to throw her a ball or a stick. If it had gone too far tumbling into the air, she would trot half-heartedly part of the way, then judge the distance it had travelled, decide against the hard work, and return. And if it hadnt, and landed at a reasonable distance, she would run, take it in her mouth and just sit there. Like it was her posession, she would settle right there and then with that ball/stick in between her paws and dig her tiny sharp teeth into it and carefully separate it from itself.

She was fussy about lunch. I had to be home from school, seat her on the stairs, seat myself and her bowl provided I was always one step lower than her highness and her food, and had to feed her with my hand part by part. I knew I was spoiling her, and I loved it! Silky looked cutest when she was looking down at you. Her eyes used to droop, her heavy ears used to drop, her wrinkly neck went even more wrinkly and her whole body used to take on an expression which made me squeal in joy.

Like every other dog, Silky did not like being alone. She would find ways to sneak into the room to come play with us. Although very small even as a grown up, she could jump up and open the door to the front room and push her way in... She used to go round and round the furniture sniffing the ground endlessly for titbits she could find. And then come to either me or my brother, give a light jump and stand with her forepaws on our lap, waiting to be petted! She also snored really loudly, some first time guests in the house always used to be alarmed by the snoring sound from under the sofa when everybody in front of them was apparently awake.

She was terrified of cats. To protect her natural ego of a being a canine, she used to chase a cat once in a while, but if the cat was witty enough to reciprocate, Silky was gone in a second. Rats were a no different story. Our sophisticated black and white cocker spaniel couldnt chase rats for us, surely!

I remember one morning, when I was leaving for school. I was in a hurry, my father got into the car and started reversing itWhile inching backwards, a small squeak started coming from under the tyre. He stopped the car, and thereafter tried to back again, but again felt some obstruction under the tyre. He asked me to take a look under the car. What I saw made my stomach turn on itself. Silky was stuck under the tyre, and was only able to manage a squeak from under it. Her stomach was squeezed under the tyre. Panicking and shrieking, I desperately tried to force my hand between the tyre and her body. My father reacted quickly, didnt have to be told what had happened. He released her, and she sprang up from there, right into my arms. My sweet little pet was so afraid. I didnt care about getting late for school anymore, I just wanted to stop her shivering. She wasn't hurt, just very scared. My parents asked me to stop worrying and start for school. I had to. When I came back from school, there she was, sniffing the house down for her food, already forgotten the incident in the morning. I was so relieved. Silky's emotions were so real, she was almost like a human being to me.

At three or four years of age, she developed a problem in her eyes. We tried all kinds of treatment. But then it turned out that it was all wrong treatment suggested by a stupid, stupid vet. When she was about eight or nine, we gave her something to eat two feet away from her, and she had to sniff it out. We knew then that she had gone blind. Silky's body started giving way day after day, her condition began to get worse. She developed a skin infection, endless itches and a smell only I and my brother could tolerate, and a dropping appetite. All our efforts proved to bring only temporary relief. Then, the magician returned. A vet who was an old friend of my grandfather had not been practicing for some years due to a personal reason. On 24th of September 2005, a few months after my grandfather died, he returned, asking about him. He started treating Silky, and Silky in turn started showing dramatic improvement. She wasnt a playful pup again, I accept, but there were a lot of positive changes. She could see reasonably, her eye infection was better, the smell reappeared less frequently and her appetite was revived. I remember there used to be times, when suddenly, the thought of having to lose Silky one day would cross my mind. It used to make me shudder, and i eliminated all such thoughts from my mind. But such a day had to come.

Two years passed this way, improvement over old diseases and new diseases surfacing. But Silky always maintained that beautiful joyous welcome she used to put up every time I or my brother stepped into the house. In august 2007, when I was struggling to juggle my time between work for final year of college, coaching institute, my research project and being the president of the society at my college department, Silky fell alarmingly ill. She had been ill practically all her life, but this time it was different. And each of us could sense it. I couldnt give her enough time. My brother handled her illnesses all along with wonderful efficiency, and that made me feel a little less guilty. I tried to help my brother as much as I could, but something or the other always came up. I was so frustrated. All her life, I had given more time than she needed, and now, when she really needed me, I couldnt give her more than this. Her suffering was increasing by the day. She could not be cured anymore. One day, she stopped getting up at all. She just lay there, obviously in pain. I started waiting for something which used to scare me all these years. I started waiting for her to die. On 25th August, 2007, she had started to shriek in pain right from the morning. I went for my coaching class. At 3 o'clock in the afternoon, I went and sat in a way that i could see her and her breath slowly moving up her body. I was filling my senses with my favourite sight for the last time. Evening came along, and I didnt stop looking at her. At around 7 (I had lost track of time), my uncle and my cousin came to see her. For a few seconds I had to go in to get some water for them. When I came back, Silky was no more. I dont know if she chose to leave everybody in everyone's presence but mine. But I felt it was very unfair. Nobody had loved her the way I had. My mind went numb. After a few minutes, tears rolled down my cheeks. My mother immediately asked me not to cry because Silky had been ill very long. I dint say it then, but I wanted to ask her how it would feel, if I, her little girl were dead after a long illness, and somebody had asked not to cry because of this reason. I know there is no comparison, I am just drawing an analogy. I carried her for the last time wrapped in a chaddar to the place where my father had got the mali to dig a hole. When I reached there, with dead Silky in my arms, I thought the hole was a little too large for my sweet, but she fitted in perfectly. We sprinkled salt on her, the hole was refilled, and we returned home. I did not cry anymore that day.

Many things are empty without her, but my mind is always filled with the memories she has given me. I knew each of her moods, her expressions and her attitude. There are too many memories to be recorded in a single place. Silky was no less than a human being. She is still as close to me as she always was.