Dingo
He is the older of my two dogs. He would be ten this year. Milk white just after a bath, off-white on all other times. With brown ears and a brown patch behind. And beautiful large eyes. He came to our house in the front basket of Pop's old Bajaj. Avi chose him from a litter of four or five at a near by petrol station and brought him home. He was a month old when he came...small, cute and roly-poly. He changed our lives.
He grew up to be lean and handsome, courageous and large-hearted, intelligent, and above all, extremely playful. Well, he wasn't the best mannered always, especially when we had guests, but he was a darling. There are just so many stories of Dingo. His mischieves. His rebellion. His brilliant escapades.
Like how he dug below the meshed wire fencing to make a depression of sorts, pressed himself to the ground and slowly crawled out to the other side. To make new friends. I don't know if dogs with pedigree want to mingle with dogs on the street, but our hero sure had the common touch.
On one hot afternoon in the rainy season, he was tied in the garage. He started barking and it was a strange bark we couldn't understand. There was nobody at the gate. He kept barking when Mom went out to check, and make her afternoon round of the garden. Neither Mom, nor Kashi, the maali, could make sense of Dingo's strange and urgent barking. Then Kashi suddenly saw something moving in the thick lawn in the direction Dingo was barking. It didn't take too long to register it was a snake and it was moving in the direction of a flower bed close to Dingo. There was just a second of daze before Maa got the picture and rushed forward to untie Dingo's leash; meanwhile the snake, probably not meaning any harm, crawled closer to where Dingo was, and Dingo, while Maa quickly pulled him to the other side, lunged forward at the snake, with his front paw narrowly missing it by inches. He had to be dragged inside quickly and forcefully. Kashi saw the snake change direction and quickly disappear into the hedge beyond. Dingo went back to the garage later and we kept our eyes open for the next few days, but didn't see the snake again that season.
Dingo moved to Hyderabad in 2001. It was a new environment, with a new neighbourhood to explore. It was here that one day Dingo jumped off the parapet wall of the terrace, and came down with a big thud. The crash and the big yelping made the household rush out to the scene at once. Luckily, he had fallen on damp ground. We could never understand how could he be a fool to jump from that height. But then, Dingo had always seen possibility, and never known fear. He probably saw the front gate open and thought he could neatly jump off the terrace onto the lawn, and bolt out through the open gate. To friends and freedom. It was fun going for a walk with him in the night, everytime I was in Hyderabad on a weekend. There would always be some element of comedy or adventure involved.
He moved back to Bhopal last year. There is a gang of dogs in the neighbourhood there. Hungry, listless, starving, which makes them ruthless and aggresive. Last week a worker left the gate open and Dingo ran out. And this time, he got himself badly injured, in the street fight that followed. He was against seven or eight of them, who had him surrounded. He didn't give in. And they pounced on him. Had Pa reached the scene a couple of minutes late, it would have been impossible to save Dingo this time. It was a war to establish hierarchies, and he didn't want to surrender. He's got badly wounded, his worst wounds so far. When I called home this morning, he was sitting outside sullenly, in all probability, licking his wounds. Maa thinks he would be alright. I think so too. Dingo, the wounded soldier, with his large doleful eyes.
He grew up to be lean and handsome, courageous and large-hearted, intelligent, and above all, extremely playful. Well, he wasn't the best mannered always, especially when we had guests, but he was a darling. There are just so many stories of Dingo. His mischieves. His rebellion. His brilliant escapades.
Like how he dug below the meshed wire fencing to make a depression of sorts, pressed himself to the ground and slowly crawled out to the other side. To make new friends. I don't know if dogs with pedigree want to mingle with dogs on the street, but our hero sure had the common touch.
On one hot afternoon in the rainy season, he was tied in the garage. He started barking and it was a strange bark we couldn't understand. There was nobody at the gate. He kept barking when Mom went out to check, and make her afternoon round of the garden. Neither Mom, nor Kashi, the maali, could make sense of Dingo's strange and urgent barking. Then Kashi suddenly saw something moving in the thick lawn in the direction Dingo was barking. It didn't take too long to register it was a snake and it was moving in the direction of a flower bed close to Dingo. There was just a second of daze before Maa got the picture and rushed forward to untie Dingo's leash; meanwhile the snake, probably not meaning any harm, crawled closer to where Dingo was, and Dingo, while Maa quickly pulled him to the other side, lunged forward at the snake, with his front paw narrowly missing it by inches. He had to be dragged inside quickly and forcefully. Kashi saw the snake change direction and quickly disappear into the hedge beyond. Dingo went back to the garage later and we kept our eyes open for the next few days, but didn't see the snake again that season.
Dingo moved to Hyderabad in 2001. It was a new environment, with a new neighbourhood to explore. It was here that one day Dingo jumped off the parapet wall of the terrace, and came down with a big thud. The crash and the big yelping made the household rush out to the scene at once. Luckily, he had fallen on damp ground. We could never understand how could he be a fool to jump from that height. But then, Dingo had always seen possibility, and never known fear. He probably saw the front gate open and thought he could neatly jump off the terrace onto the lawn, and bolt out through the open gate. To friends and freedom. It was fun going for a walk with him in the night, everytime I was in Hyderabad on a weekend. There would always be some element of comedy or adventure involved.
He moved back to Bhopal last year. There is a gang of dogs in the neighbourhood there. Hungry, listless, starving, which makes them ruthless and aggresive. Last week a worker left the gate open and Dingo ran out. And this time, he got himself badly injured, in the street fight that followed. He was against seven or eight of them, who had him surrounded. He didn't give in. And they pounced on him. Had Pa reached the scene a couple of minutes late, it would have been impossible to save Dingo this time. It was a war to establish hierarchies, and he didn't want to surrender. He's got badly wounded, his worst wounds so far. When I called home this morning, he was sitting outside sullenly, in all probability, licking his wounds. Maa thinks he would be alright. I think so too. Dingo, the wounded soldier, with his large doleful eyes.
posted by Pallavi at 9:32 PM
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