Lassie

For a single person, books and pets are his best friends. They are a source of delight and comfort at times of despair and loneliness. Before my marriage, some of the most delightful moments of my life have been those which I had the privilege to spend in the company of my pets. One such pet was ‘Lassie’ – a female dog who remained my most intimate friend for several years till she died a few years ago.

We didn’t own Lassie. I chanced to find her during one of my regular wintry morning walks sitting quietly huddled in a corner of a park. Seeing the poor thing in such a hapless condition, I picked her up gingerly and placed her under my shawl and brought her home to the warmth of the heater and fed her with warm milk and a few tit bits. I fished out an old sweater and wrapped it around her and tied it with a strap. She felt comfortable. After a few days, a sigh of life came into her eyes and she soon grew into a rigorous thing roaming around the whole house energetically. The way to one’s heart is through his stomach. There seems to be more than a grain of truth in it. To cultivate friendship with Lassie, I decided to win her heart through her stomach. Proper food and milk at proper time and giving tit bits in between made her very close to me. Soon a good rapport was established between the two of us which lasted till her death. For a few days, I studied her manners and habits and learnt something’s of her ways and attitudes. Some days passed before she developed all her amusing habits. Soon she began to show what kind of animal she really was.

Lassie was a ferocious dog – dark bright in colour with huge limpid eyes and a graceful tail which didn’t turn into ‘O’. Though she was of an ordinary breed, she was liked by all and sundry. She soon became a favourite with everyone.

She was a naughty thing in our house. Her first business was to get up at an unheard of an hour and ran off with anything she could find to play with it. Like me, she, too, enjoyed her early morning walk through the dew grass. I cared little for leash because I didn’t want her to miss the freedom of outdoor life. Holding her head high, with her gait light and springy, she would meet the strangers with her friendly reserve. Her animus was specially directed against the rag-pickers, cyclists and stray dogs.

She was a pattern of industrious activity – always full of fun and frolic, never still even for a moment. A long tub-shaped basket was her favorite plaything. She would get inside it, roll over again and again for hours. Sometimes I would give her a ball to play with. She would spring at it, fling it a little way off and then again spring after it, try to take it to her mouth and then drop it. At times, she would pretend to have a desperate conflict with the foot of the table if she sensed a mouse might be hiding beneath the table. Somehow she seemed haunted by the idea that mice existed all over the house. She was very observant and suspicious of everything. She carried on her search for mice under all possible circumstances – looking into every plait of one’s dress, every button-hole and every nook and corner of the house by her ferocious prying eyes in case some choice morsel might by chance be lurking there. It was really very amusing to watch her ever-increasing tactics. There was no knowing what she would do next. I often marveled at the amount of vigour this fury mite would display.

Lassie was eccentric in several ways. She had learned to learn a few words and appeared to answer them. For instance, if I would say lizard, she would instantly stare at the walls of the house. At the mere mention of mouse, she would begin to heave up and down, with her little ears upraised sniffing in all directions to find out her shikar. She would really get excited at the mention of the word ‘chalo’. She would rush out immediately and wait for me outside the house to accompany me.

She was very punctual demanding her meal at proper time. If somehow her meal was delayed, she would keep coming to me, touching me by shoulders from one side to another again and again until her wants were supplied.

Nevertheless, she was sweet-tempered. She possessed an amiable disposition. On those occasions when I had to go out of station, she would plant herself outside the house, sit there patiently until I returned. She could hear the horn of my scooter and distinguish it from a hundred of others. My affection for Lassie was a little strange considering the way she reciprocated my love for her. Sometimes she would take my finger into her mouth, pretend to bite it. But not. She would lick it over. With her ever varying tactics and amusing habits, she endeared herself to everyone.

After spending a few happy years in our house, Lassie one day drooped and died leaving behind her sweet memories. As the sweeper was putting her away in the grave, I shed many tears for the loss of that little creature who by then had almost become a family member. I prayed for her soul and gave her a decent burial. My only consolation was that ever since she came into our house, she never had a moment of sorrow. I, on my part, did my best to make her short life comfortable. May her soul rest in peace!

Anjana Datta.

[ad#demo-advert-1-1-1]