Ask a dog what it takes to show unwavering loyalty. And ask him how it feels to go unnoticed. There is not one tragedy that befriends a dog; at least a flotilla of miseries hounds him to death.
Being born with a curiously short life, a canine takes brevity in its stride. They have only handful of days to bask in jubilant youth. Between growing up and growing old is just a short summer siesta
Leave aside the agonies they unknowingly inherit, and bring their daily struggle to the fore. The ones who find a foster family and embrace a life of buckles and codified domesticity, lead a ‘well behaved’ life with their masters flaunting their cowed down existence. And the one who is born on the streets and doesn’t experiment much with a cornered life grows up to become a ‘stray’ dog.
Theirs is a dog’s life – a royal ruin. Living at the mercy of others and keeping one’s largesse ready for anyone and everyone is a dual despair for the tribe.
From shooing away suspected burglars to protecting the hoards and sniffing dangers to awarding death to rodents; they do it all. Theirs is a multi-faceted role with each distinctly crucial.
It is not the call of the moon that turns them lunatic. Their vindictive growl and frantic attacks are all symptoms of a deeper malaise – victimhood. Kids are not taught to refrain from targeting street dogs; grownups don’t mind showing all-weather indifference and official caretakers of this hapless lot shirk duties. When I see three-legged dogs limping its way to a safe place, I know a rash driver has scripted his slow end. The dogs without the tails are one sign of how grossly bitter we have become.
Be grateful to their happy wagging of tail, affectionate slurps and moist eyes when you are not around. Be mindful of their fleeting days on earth.
It doesn’t even cost a dime to reciprocate. More so, when you don’t have many who wish you well. Don’t be a man of ugly hues. Show the dogkind that we are still friends with empathy.