My liking for pets has always been well-developed. Some of their actions and expressions, which simply amplifies their “cuteness” always overwhelmed me. It so seemed that I could connect far more easily to them than to the mortal existing humans. This fascination, this liking compelled me to annoy my dad to such extents wherein he finally surrendered to allow me to have a dog of my liking.
I vaguely remember the day of 2nd April. It had a bit more light and spark as compared to the others. The sole guiding force which enabled me to come out of bed was the idea of me having a pup finally and the thoughts of all those times when I would cuddle him and play with him. That energy and that enthusiasm led me to do everything at my best. Be it studies or simple Maths lessons which used to bore me. I remember how I would constantly poke my dad to ask the person about his whereabouts who was getting us the pup that day. I remember it was dusk when uncle finally got home.
He was as little as my red remote control car which I was interestingly very fond of. Hash-brown skinned with hair grown maturely in some places. He was covered in dust and had dust brown eyes. Tiny legs, short tail and enormous energy are something that would fit him correctly. He was simply “adorable”. We left him in the garden area and saw him run enthusiastically everywhere. He would collide with the table placed at the front and when tired, he would stop, sit and squeak. Nothing more could be expected from a 32 day old pup who could not even analyse if he struck the table, he would get hurt and irrespective he would still dash into the table again. His actions and his expressions never failed to bring a huge grin on my face. It was midst Covid when he had brought him. Post Covid, it was time to go back to my school again. I studied in a boarding school and the idea of me having to live alone and not in the company of my doggo did not strike me until the day when I had to depart to the airport to catch my flight. When at school, I would miss him dearly. His funny roll on the grass and the excitement with which he would come when he saw his meal in my hand is something that the words would fail to describe. Whenever I would see a dog pass by or a movie which had scenes of any such dog,it would not take even a blink of second to revert my thoughts back to my Hard, troubling me with the thoughts whether he had his food or if mumma did not leave the house gate open when he would simply escape and enter into a fight with the other dog of the colony. My motivation for calling up my parents was to see him, with my parents always getting startled about the same and calling me absolute crazy.
When I would return back from school for my summer breaks, I would constantly think if hardy had forgotten me. I would think of his ultimate reaction when he would see me. If he would be crazily happy and pounce on me making sure to have wet my entire face with his saliva or he would simply ignore me and be an absolute stranger. I could feel the butterflies in the stomach as and when these thoughts crossed my mind.
As I stepped into the home, I would call out loudly for my grandparents and my mother, letting them know that I have come and the next second I could be seen walking towards my garden to see my dog. He was right underneath the huge mango tree, nudging on his ball. As I screamed out his name aloud, he would hold up his head, stare for a few seconds and, having recognized me, he would run towards me and made sure to jump to such a height where his forelimbs would fit right on my shoulder. The latter thought of mine ( he acting as a stranger) would blur away instantly and nothing but a sense of absolute “joy” and “happiness” would surround me.
A native of Ranchi, Radhika S Tibrewal is presently studying in Class 12 (Science) at Mayo College Girls’ School, Ajmer. Her interests lie widely in finance and management and are an avid and a passionate public speaker who is part of the Model United Nations Club and the debating society of her school. The views expressed are personal.