THINK LIKE A DOG

Punjabis show more affection to their dogs than their spouses.

Have you ever caught yourself petting your partner like you would pet an animal? But if you’re about to give your spouse a belly rub; STOP

Your romantic life might be in serious jeopardy.

Affection and the Indian psyche have never seen eye to eye.

From lack of public display of affection (PDA) to instinctively folding hands v/s shaking them (which we claim as a victory in the COVID-19 times). The weird semi pairi-paena (more like a ‘gode nu hath launa) to the inability to say ‘I love you’ to most people; we have had weird social, cultural and safety barriers to showing affection.

But not your pets.

For the love of dog, show him affection.

In these times of lock-down and spending prolonged extended time with your pet while he is unable to go for long walks; what can we do to keep the dog happy?

Dogs become one dimensional when they have to stay at home and not go for daily walks. You see, the walk around the block to a dog is like reading the daily newspaper:

-Does this scent belong to an intruder animal. Is it even dog or cat pee?

-Which animal not from my gang came into my territory?

-The brown stray down the road still has a bad stomach.

-Why is the guard who always says hi to me not on duty this morning?

-Has the milkman left? Why isn’t the postman around anymore?

-Which neighbourhood animal is on heat?

You take that away from an animal and you’re taking away their only source of entertainment because the TV doesn’t mean much to them; nor does the food take more than 30 seconds to devour. Take 18 hours out of the 24 hours for napping and the 15 minutes of attention the owners give to them in a day, you still have a lot of free time left to do nothing.

Or to whine and sulk.

Or to be intrusive, boorish, assertive and maybe destructive.

Screw the “Good Boy”.

Here are a few things we can do to keep our pets happy during lock-down.

Create a game for him which rewards him (with treats) to use his mind & efforts.

-A rotating tube which dispenses treats by spinning. (specially if you are good at making items with your hands)

-A ball on a pole/ tree that one (and preferably 2 or 3) dog can play with.

-A kong toy with treats tricking out or peanut butter pasted on the inside.

2) If you have a treadmill at home, you can teach your dog to use it.

3) Teach your dog a new trick. You have the time and with a little help from you-tube you can teach him a new trick. Dos love learning new tricks with positive reinforcement and treats. They are motivated by;

-Rewards

-Stimulation

-Involvement

-Pleasing the owner (most dogs learn new tricks because of the praise & joy

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KyY5yJw8Sbg

4) Consider getting a friend for your pet. This can be done in one of the following ways

-A friend’s dog for extended play-dates.

-A stray friend- If your dog loves a stray dog while they walk, consider bringing them in and allowing them to play in your yard. Dogs do not carry the COVID-19 virus and the dog would love to go back on the street once he is done because all animals love their freedom more than anything else.

-Foster a sick, injured or orphaned puppy. Most dogs allow a puppy into their household and take them under their wing. The new dog needs to be introduced to your pet in the right manner (a neutral turf for meeting, walk the animals together, monitor)

-Adopting another animal. This might be the best time to adopt another animals because you can monitor their success into your home. Most animal love growing up with other animals.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=unRH7LdwC4Y

5) Notice 5 Characteristics in your dog that you might have missed on account of staying busy (ok to do with your spouse and children too).

6) Give your dog the time of your life by massaging it.

Imagine never being able to stick your finger or a q-tip in your ear, or getting a facial, or wring your hands. There are some advantages evolution has given due to having opposable thumbs. Now use them to help a brother out.

You will bond with your animal in an amazing way if you dip into some baby oil and massage the dog. You can get him to any trick if he knows that the reward is a massage.

https://www.akc.org/expert-advice/health/massage-can-help-your-dog/

It’s the most amazing couple therapy that you and your dog will get and if you do it with your spouse helping you, it will be the best couples therapy all of you get.

When you decided to get get married to your spouse you took away their chance of getting romantic affection from most people except you. The COVID-19 has taken away their chance of showing affection to family and friends (not that we do a stellar job of it to begin with).

With almost all affection being taken away from your spouse, it is YOUR JOB and your RESPONSIBILITY to show them affection.

By taking an animal away from its family and the chance of it getting affection from another human, it is not your JOB and RESPONSIBILITY to show it affection. And keep it happy and healthy.

A happy dog is a healthy dog. Much like with spouses; it leads to a healthy relationship.

Dependency is Slavery for Humans and Animals

He smoothed his collar, “Baby, now why would you work for a measly salary after we get married? I make enough money for the both of us.”

She looked at the corner of his upturned mouth, Oh he loves me so. If I marry him I will never get—

FUCKED

He just created a dependency that you are surely going to rue for the rest of your life. You don’t know it yet—but trust me, you will.

My limited understanding of feminism tells me that all forms of dependencies are exploitations waiting to happen.

Women don’t need a man to do anything for them. They are fully capable of doing everything for themselves, men just need to get their asses out of their way and not impede them with patriarchy, dependencies, cultures, traditions, stereotypes etc.

On an even playing field they are fully capable of taking care of themselves. They have the intelligence, abilities, desires, motivation, strength to do whatever they want.

****************

She wrapped her dupatta around her arm and knelt, “Oh look at that cute dog, he looks so hungry and sad.” She reached for her stash of dog food while she traced the area between his eyes and gave his ear a gentle rub.

The dog moaned in pleasure. Lady, you have no idea how good it feels to get an ear rub… if you don’t have opposing thumbs you are—

FUCKED

She just created a dependency.

My substantial understanding of the animal world tells me that all forms of dependencies are dysfunctional. Animals did not want humans to do ANYTHING for them. They were fully capable of doing everything themselves. We just needed to get our asses out of their way and not impede them with domestication, dependencies, cultures, traditions, slaughter, forcible breeding, stereotypes etc.

On an even playing field they are fully capable of taking care of themselves. They have intelligence, abilities, motivation and strength to do whatever they want.

*******************

We think animals are stupid.

We believe in India that stray dogs will not survive without food.

We fail to realize the most basic part of nature. The law of survival. The rule of the jungle.

MULTIPLY BASED ON THE AMOUNT OF FOOD AVAILABLE.

Animals do not have sex for pleasure. All animals have sex for just one reason: TO PROCREATE.

Case in point- EVERY animal comes on heat at the time of copulation and conception.

EVERYONE except humans.

We are the ONLY species who has sex for pleasure.

All animals multiply based on the food available, so if you are feeding an animal; here is the message you are sending to them.

FOOD IS ABUNDANT; PLEASE MULTIPLY.

-and sure enough they have been complying for decades in India. Dogs and Cows. We have the highest number of domesticated animals in the world (75 Crores) that’s 0.75 Billion (with a B)

All animals know how to find food. Trust them and their natural instincts. Their instincts are much much much better than ours. Please do not make them dependent on us.

In Michigan the hunting season works like this;

All winter they feed deer at stations. These stations close (by law) just before hunting season starts. The deer come to the station looking for food and that’s where the hunters are waiting for them with their telescopic rifles.

Similarly, dog-feeding in India works like so;

Animal lovers feed street dogs.

Dogs consider the feeding location their home. In the dog’s mind he’s a pet. In the feeder’s mind, he’s a stray animal.

The dog guards its territory, starts pooping a few houses down the street and barks at anyone crossing ‘his’ house.

The neighbors start complaining. People get into fights. Animals lovers stop feeding the dogs or worse still move away from the locality.

The dogs starve or neighbors hit or poison them

The dependency has led to their downfall.

We should feed lactating mothers, orphaned puppies, sick or injured dogs, special needs dogs who can not hunt for food. But when they are healthy- wean them off the food. Or they will continue to be dependent and get lazier.

As an Animal Welfare Officer, I get at least 10 calls a day about human-animal conflict caused by this human-human behavior.

But Animal Lovers do not get it. Because they love to point the finger at ‘the others’.

They feed because it makes them feel better. Just like the dependency made the woman feel better before she got married and fucked her later on in life. That’s basic co-dependency.

Just that in a street dogs case. This dependency gets them beaten or killed or their young puppies get dislocated.

Then why feed?

Because it makes us feel better about ourselves.

We do it because that what WE need, not because that’s what the ANIMAL needs.

So are we ‘animal lovers’ or just ‘self-aggrandizing self lovers’ in camouflage.

Animals need vaccinations to protect them from ‘domestication’ diseases (foot mouth disease/ glanders/ parvo/ distemper…the list is endless).

Animals need us to stop feeding them so there is less of them to compete for the food available for them. Failing which and in the abundance of garbage, they need sterilizing.

So either they need us to be a neat and clean country or they lose their cojones.

But since we continue to be filthy and we feed and we don’t sterilize (as much as we should);

we cause them relentless harm.

Covid-19 has brought this issue to the forefront. When the country is facing lockdown we are risking human life and a pandemic virus to violate curfew and seen feeding passes because we have now CREATED A MONSTER.

But what happens when the threat is over, we will surely go back to feeding them.

And we will justify it. Just like we justify everything else. We will claim that we cant stop now or else they will starve (we still do not trust their superior instincts).

But in reality we will make the next generation dependent on us by feeding them too.

WE WILL CONTINUE SCREWING OVER THE STREET DOGS and we will blame the Animal haters for being the culprits and on social media will call them all sorts of names.

Be responsible.

Keep their future in mind.

PLEASE STOP FEEDING HEALTHY ANIMALS

-Trust their abilities and intelligence. Just like feminism teaches you to FUCK patriarchy.

The animals have evolved…

Have we ??

The ‘B’ Plan

Work is worship! I’m an atheist.

My perfect hairy black right leg is bent at the knee and perched on the other. The smell of warm syrup over pancakes wafts into my nostrils as I sip the yellow fluid.

Aah this is the good lif—

“–MONARDA”

–What The Flower? I swivel my neck. “Kaun hai, bhidu?”

My supervisor is hovering right over me, “Monarda, You’re the laziest, the most irresponsible, the most vile–”

“—Thaamba bhai log.” I flash my badge. “Don’t forget I’m the leader of the union.”

The nerve on his neck bulges, “A union? A union of one?”

“Not one, several we’re uniting to ruin the life of ManiFornica.”

“How dare you take her name in vain. You will respect Madame Manikarnika.”

I flip my middle finger at his face, “Madame can go f–”

“This… this insolent behavior will be reported, Monarda.”

I turn my ass to him and wiggle it. Then I slap it with my open palm and make a sizzling sound followed by the perking of my lips and a smacking kiss. “She can kiss my–”

My fat supervisor waddles his way out of the cell.

A few of my friends gather around me, their eyes showing a variety of emotions ranging from false concern to I care-a-damn.

The ugliest one starts, “Why do you disrespect Madame? After all she is the reason why we all do the work that we do.”

“None of you suckers know your own worth. You know what you do? You make others have sex. Others who can not have sex without your help. You’re the sole reason why the worlds economy runs smoothly. All because you are an assistant in sex. Without you…”

“No sex…?” the monstrously obese one smiles.

“Yes, you ostentatious bastard. And what does she do? Nothing.” I point to ManiArnica’s photo, “You all work your sorry assess off all year just so Madame Middle-leg over here can sell your product off to the highest bidder.”

The nerd clears his throat, “But we’re just followers. What can we do?”

“Protest, you doofuses! Protest.” I shake my fist. “It is time to rise against this cruelty. If it isn’t bad enough that all the pesticides, insecticides and pollution is destroying us.”

“Then why do we help others have sex. Why don’t we have sex ourselves?” the eternal virgin sticks his tongue out.

“Its because of ManiScrewika’s pheromones.” I take a deep whiff of the dense air. “I think she’s too old and she has crabs.”

The waspy looking nerd shuts his ears. “Don’t say that’s she’s our leader, she’s the–”

“Not for long. It’s time we have a new Madam.It is time the old gave way to the new and I know who is the right choice. My Black-eyed Susan is perfect.” I flip to her picture, “Hoochie-wa-wa. Kya maal hai. When she bears my babies, we will kill the old madam and crown Susan.”

“But we will always remain just workers. That is how a well-oiled machine works.” The ugly one bobs his head again.

“Not me. My boo’s going to be my sugar-mama.”

X X X

O Susana. I’m so crazy lovin’ you.

O Susan baby… mmm mmm mmm…

I slick the beeswax over my short China black hair and gyrate my ass in front of my reflection. “A hump, a hump…and a pump. Ooooo Susana. Your’e mine mine mine, all mine.”

Perfection. Monarda. Perfection. No wonder Susan can’t resist you.

I hurry over to Susan. Her canary yellow dress and the black phantom mask over her perfectly set eyes makes my mandible drop down to my knees.

“Oh Monarda,” she sighs, “I can’t compete with Manikarnika.”

“Come on Susie, baby. Tu totta hai, she’s an old hag.” All my eyes stare into all of hers. “You’re the future. She’s old and saggy. Your abs on the other hand…” I run my hand on her perfectly flat—“WTF? Daaaammnnn. You’re putting on some weight babe.”

She pushes my hand, her mouth curls in anger “I have to tell you something…” she holds her head, “I am…I’m…well… You know the other day when we met behind the colony … I told you …it wasn’t the right time.”

“What are you saying to me? You can not be—Are you?”

“Yes.” She smiles at me.”

“Ohnononononono… No No No…. O hell No.” I shake my head. “Susie, baby, honeypot. Tell me that’s not true.”

Her eyes bear the sorrow, surprise and loss of faith of the entire world, “I thought, you’d be happy.”

“Happy? Sus, we’re fucked.”

“No Mondarda, we fucked. Now we’re going to be a family.”

I count up to ten and turn back to face her. ”Susan. You and me, we’re made for bigger things. This is not the right time. Nobody should know about us.”

“Monarda, get your head out of your arse, the entire colony knows about us.”

The entire colony! These bozos are just fucking idiots who will never learn. A perfectly oiled machine; my black hairy ass.

“Susan, the inhabitants of the colony just think about their own sorry families. They don’t look beyond their microcosm.”

“We will have our family too in this colony.”

“This colony? Sus..we’re going to rule this colony.” I squeeze her hand. “Remember the rule? When every body votes you as the new Madam, then you get pregnant and we can have as many babies as you want. Not before that, honeybuns.”

“You’ve said this to me a million times. Yada yaada yaada. We kill Manikarnika after I have the babies and all the other aspirants who want to be Madam.” A tear rolls down her face and rests over her mouth wetting her minute whiskers. “Don’t you understand. I don’t want to kill my friends.”

“Even if that means that we continue to lose 40% of our lot and becomes extinct 8 times faster than any other? The rate at which the world pollution is decimating us and Idiots like the US president deny climate change. Our very own Chief Minister just institutes a weird odd-even rule for cars. We should migrate our colony to Chandigarh.”

“Move Hive Haven to Chandigarh? You must be crazy.”

Hive Haven? Goodness who was the bozo who named our colony that? We’re just a bunch of idiots with shanty-holes for homes.

“At-least they have flowers there. Ever heard of the Rose-garden?”

“So I kill all my friends and become the Madam, bear your children,become the new Madam and move to Chandigarh. Is THAT the plan?”

“Yes, we’ll go on strike.” No more mindless droning and slogging and collecting honey for the humans just so they steal it from us to put our food on their cakes and bread and…”

“But Monarda, a decline in pollination is a threat to nature. If there are no fruits, what will insects eat and if there are no insects how will reptiles survive and without reptiles there’ll be more rodents and with more rodents–”

“—More crop damage.” I rest my forewings on hers. “Then the humans will use more fertilizers and chemicals to kill more insects and harm their own bodies and earth with the poisonous chemicals.” These chutiyas are so doomed.

Black-eyed Susan sighs, “Without pollination the crops won’t yield plants. We are the only species that allows the flower to have sex with itself. How can these humans not see it? Why are they killing us with the chemicals and the pollution?”

“Because these assholes can’t see beyond their own noses. They’re smart.” Fucking evolution.

Her voice falters, “And the sericulture?Goodness!”

Yep. The dreaded S word. They will put our hives in boxes. They’ll wear white body suits and steal our honey. Any we can’t stop stinging them. I’ve begged them not to sting. But it’s so damn instinctive for them. They will sting and lose their lives and be cleaned off the floor in thousands every evening.

I use my hand to wipe away my tears. “Susan, baby we’ve got to stop this. We’ve got to have you become our new Queen.

For once we have to get out of the drone mindset and go on a fly-down strike.

For once we have to stop working mindlessly and not consider work as worship.

Let humans get their own honey from somewhere else. My grandpa said his grandpa from 72 generations ago told him how once Chandigarh was lush with flowers. How the rose-festival had more roses than…

Susan coughs back her tear. “My Gammy used to say bees are responsible for 400 species of agricultural plants and species and one in six of the worlds flowering plants would be extinct without us.” She places her hind-wing on my Thorax.

“We should produce just enough honey for ourselves and stop making hives. Disband our colonies or make them in jungles and pollinate just the jungles. Let’s wait for the humans to either get their own honey or till they find a way to cut down our jungles and our colonies to make more of theirs.

To achieve the greater goal my Sweets, we have to abort our children and kill Manikarnika and make you the Queen. I know what I’m asking you to do is hard but it for the greater good”…

XXX

I sharpen my sting on the pumice stone and pace up and down my cell. In another month we drones will be cast away for from this hive by the females. We must act quickly to convince the females that ManiFornicator is old as hell and needs to go. But today…

I run the tip of my finger around the drop of the queen’s pheromone laced with Anarchy. It’s a potent concoction of chemicals and genes that is guaranteed to kill the eggs. I drop another smidge of Anarchy and stir it.

Is it too much Monarda?I’m fully aware that excess of Anarchy can easily kill Susan. I walk over to the second drop and toss lots of Anarchy in it. Aah this will certainly get the decrepit old witch.

Soon the world will see a new colony of bees. Not workers but game change—

Bzzzzz the stray ray of light coming from the east wing creates a halo around her perfect head. Her round luscious ass sashays in the air, inviting, intoxicating…

I hope she doesn’t die today but if she does Lavender Lilly will have to do. The plan must go on.

Her eyes are puffy, her wings are loose by her sides. “Monarda, are yousure–”

“Yes sweetie, we will have more babies. This is to save the– uggghhhhh.”

I clutch my aorta as the pale straw coloured blood oozes out. “Susie… you told… HER.”

I start to gag, trying to clear my head and my vision. I blink all my eyes to focus on Manikarnika hovering over me.

I pull out a stinger out of my neck. The now amber coloured fluid oozing out over my slimy fingers.

“It’s called ‘Nature’s Balance’, Monarda,” Manikarnika touches my shoulder. You just don’t see it. That’s the way it is meant to be.”

My world starts swimming around me and I hear sounds coming from a space above me.

“But the humans–” I gag at Susie, who is leaning against the wall.

“—Yes, Moni..the humans don’t see it because of their parochial outlook.” She chokes back a tear. “Adopt the peace of Nature, my boy. Her secret is patience. You are far too anxious to create change in an un-natural way. That is exactly what the humans are doing. They forget nature and you are instigating our drones to do the same.” Her wings encompass my fading light. “This world doesn’t belong to any one species. We all work in unision for our Mother Earth.”

A peace falls over me as she kisses my forehead. The silence of nature is very real. It rummages through my body and into my soul.

THE LEGEND OF LONG JOHN SILVER

What do animals in pain need from us?

They need JUST ONE person too see them.

“Amritsar Junction”, Cindy squinted her eyes to focus on the yellow board the train was approaching. She thumbed the well-worn ‘Lonely planet’, guide she had purchased from the Delhi airport 20 days ago. ‘The city of a pond full of divine syrup’ – the loosest translation of this North Indian City of Punjab. A holy city for the Sikhs which houses the magnificent golden temple, made of solid gold, surrounded by the pond of holy water. For centuries its been a city the most important site of pilgrimage to the Sikhs.

Kindness and Compassion is the cornerstone of the 350-year old Sikh religion. Cindy is looking to expand her views about spirituality and diversity infused from her own sense of anti-speciesism. She is expecting to be enlightened.

As she steps out of the station she hears a low whine. A dog is lying on a mound of construction sand. His light brown fur is highlighted by spackles of blood. His black ears are curled backwards almost stuck to his big head. When she see’s his hind leg a sigh escapes her lips. All she can see is a stump. His leg is missing from halfway down with a wound bleeding, raw and infested with maggots.

She stops in her tracks and bends down to touch his head. He whines in pain. Cindy’s belief in humanity takes an instant hit. The lonely planet guide drops from her lifeless hand as she puts the hand to her trembling lips. “Who did this to you?” she forces back her tears.

In the next instant she gets up and shrieks, “Who did this to this dog? What has happened to him?” she looks around in a hysterical voice. “What the heck happened to this dog?” she shrieks till the station master comes running towards her.

After they’ve brought her a third glass of water the station master tells her of a story based on hearsay that a drunk person had come to the station one night and when the dog wouldn’t stop barking at him, he unsheathed a machete and hacked the dogs leg clear off his body.

Snot and tears dribble down Cindy’s face to her chin. The pain of an animal is not new to her – what is new is how people can just walk him by, oblivious to a dog in so much need. She wipes her tears and holds up her cell-phone…

77 animal lovers, 23 shares and 3 days later she finds an organization willing to help. Peedu’s People has the same beliefs Cindey has about veganism and kindness to animals. Inder sets off 300 miles away to check on the dog and gets the wound treated and maggots removed. 5 days of treatments later the wound starts to scab over and the dog starts to get up and eat copious amounts of food. He starts showing some of his quirky personality. He’s fun and wants to play, he has a girlfriend who has been sitting by his side and watching him heal everyday. He is pushy towards her and he starts being what we would later call- ‘ass-holey’. Once we save a dog- we name him.

An ass-hole dog, who loves to play and loves affection and has one leg hacked off- who else could he be but; Long John Silver.

3 syllabus names are funny for most people- but when a dog gets a name like such- he gets more of a swag to his weird gait. Soon we have a happy and healthy Long John Silver (LJS) who is prancing on the same sand-pile with his GF and since she is such a darling to him- she gets the name, Clementine.

So begins the search of finding a home for LJS. For months Peedu’s People gets no response. Then one day, 5 months later, out of the blue shows up the ultimate savior, Niz Khan. She agrees to rescue and place him in the UK but after 5 months we do not know if LJS is still alive.

Peedu’s People take off on the task of looking for him. Tina and Inder drive the 300 miles and search every nook and cranny of the Amritsar Railway station but LJS is nowhere to be found. Tired eyes and straining backs are about to give up when Tina points to a spot on the platform. Inder turns to her, Tina’s eyes are wide and she’s trying to mouth something but no words are coming out. Inder stares in the direction she’s pointing.

There he is, playing with a 3-year old kid, rolling on the ground. His now pink stump in the air as he flops on his back. Tina calls out to him and touches his face with the kindest of touches. LJS is now all hers. Inder picks him up and puts him in the car.

“We found him…we got him”, Tina keeps repeating to Niz over the phone. Tears of relief roll down her eyes and all Niz can think of is, “Where’s Clemetine?”

Tina gasps, “She’s right here.” She focuses on Clementine standing atop a hand drawn cart.

“Let’s get her too.” Niz says.

********************

The two dogs have been snoring in the air-conditioned car. The harsh sun is beating down on the parched 45 degree celsius ground as the car races towards Chandigarh. The dogs are safe but a far way away from their ultimate foster-home in England.

6 months later, Clementine has been adopted. She is such a darling dog that she was sought after by several adopters. LJS, The ass-hole dog is still at the fosters.

But is he really an ass-hole dog?

The answer is NO.

He is pushy to other dogs but that’s because as a handicapped dog he had to compete with healthy dogs on the streets for months. His pushiness has made him survive but he never bites another dog.

He got a lot of sympathy from passengers at the railway station but he got no affection. He lives for human affection. He will walk up to you on the tube in London and sit in front of you till you pet his brown head with cute black ears. His tail will wag till he knocks of some beer-mugs off the tables at the local pub. He will engage with every kid in the park. He is a drama queen for affection.

Imagine the pain and the fear a dog would have of a human if a human had hacked a leg off with a machete.

But LJS HAS FORGIVEN HUMANs for the sake of humanity.

He is still up for adoption and he is an excellent spokes-dog for his brother and sister strays that languish on the streets in India and elsewhere in the world. He struts his stuff on 3 legs everywhere in London. He is most at home in trains and at railway stations.

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So if you are on the tube in London or national rail to Streatham Commons and you see an brown asshole, tripod dog sitting in front of you and wagging his tail for affection; please give him some because he really really really deserves it.

Where Have ALL the Old Strays Gone ?

The Indie dog is everywhere.

But you should challenge yourself to find an old indian stray dog.

They are young, they are omnipresent– and then they are gone.

Never have I seen an old indian stray dog.

The Indie dog is sharp as a tack, wily as a fox, confident as a politician, nimble as a trapeze artist, loyal to a fault, territorial as a landlord but always young.

Check their teeth; they are all under 2-3 years of age. If your city runs an ABC program or has an SPCA, take some statistics of their age and draw a bell curve.

Do they die young? Do they get shipped off for the Yulin festival? Its still a mystery to me.

The only sure thing is–

— POOF…they are gone.

…MERE PAAS MAA HAI

“Opossums in a Trap?” I tap the screen of the laptop in my truck.

“Yes two of them.” The voice over the phone crackles.

“O.K I’ll be there.” I assign the case to myself on the screen. Great, My second day on the job and I am dealing with Marsupials. Wasn’t this job all about Canines and Felines? Why am I saving opossums?

I press the button on my two-way radio. “10-4, Heading to trap #321.” I stare into the overcast Texas sky and quickly read my training manual regarding trapped wildlife. If wildlife gets trapped in our live traps set out for feral cats, they need to be released if they are healthy. If injured and bleeding, they must be euthanized in a humane manner as per Texas Health & Safety procedure 166.45-51.

Eight minutes later I pull into the maintenance building of the University and ask the complainant, “Two opossums in one trap? How?”

“This you have to see.” The Hispanic worker smiles.

I take a deep breath and prepare for the ghastly sight. Who cares for these ugly animals? I’m wasting time saving them instead some dogs or other cute…

…Whoa. The sight in front of my eyes stops me in my tracks. A baby Opossum is wailing and whining inside the trap and its mother is outside trying in vain to reach her baby through the wire cage. A deep gash oozes blood from her nose as she desperately tries to reach her young

She stops when she notices me and then starts again, unafraid of me. In fact, in her world I don’t exist and my uniform isn’t valid, nor is my pole threatening.

I put her in a transfer cage with her baby and take her to a local vet. We dress up her wound and suture it. My job calls for taking her to the shelter and declaring her injured. However if I do so she’ll be put down and her baby won’t survive without its mama.

So I break a rule on my second day at my job to save two lives I didn’t care for 2 hours ago and I re-learn the lesson of a mothers love for her child.

Tonight I’ll just call my mom and listen to her voice—just because…

A New Sheriff in Town

Que Sera Sera…

“When my foster Mommy, Sarah picked me up from the euthanasia list at the pound, I was fifteen minutes away from the pink stuff.” I settle in for the bedtime story Daphne, the Great Dane has been begging for. “In effect my life already is a blessing- and Sarah is my angel.”

“She’s my angel too.” Daphne perks up at the mention of Sarah’s name.

“And mine.” Pickles chimes in.

“Not mine- I’m her master.” Diesel licks his giant paw with his massive spatula like tongue.

“Unnhh hunnnh.” I take a swipe at Diesel.

“She picks up my poop, guys. That proves it.” Diesel’s bed creaks under his 165 Lb. weight.

I must say he does poop out mountains. “Anyways, moving on. Nobody wanted an emaciated black puppy with severe mange. But she saw something in me that NOBODY else could.”

“Yep, that’s my Sarah.” Daphne says. “She sees with her heart.”

Pickles interjects. “But what sort of a name is Wyatt? What the heck is Wyatt?”

Whatever will be will be…

Yes, she named me after an American hero, Wyatt Earp. I run my tongue over my sharp puppy teeth. “Although every day is a gift for me, I often wonder what I will be when I grow up.”

“Your name must indicate to Sarah what you might become.” Daphne says.

“Will I be handsome, Daph?” I lay my head on her paw.

“Absolutely, little brother.” Daphne licks my head.

“Will I be brave, Diesel?”

Diesel yawns. “Wyatt was a very flawed character. The sort that storywriters love. He was a sheriff—

—Pow pow. I imagine myself as Wyatt the sheriff, badge and all- Sweeeeet.

“–He was a miner and a boxing referee–” Diesel adds.

Gentledogs, lets get ready to rummmmble.

“–He was a pimp and a brothel owner–” Diesel says.

A what?? “A pimp- OK. Maybe I can pimp you, Pickles. Wyatt the pimp-doggy; bling-bling.”

“Hey, I’m a boy.” Pickles blinks rapidly.

Diesel turns over and closes his eyes. “But he was mostly a great cowboy who killed three outlaws at the gunfight at OK Corral.”

Wooohooooo.

I asked my mamma, what would I be? Here’s what she said to me…

Diesel and Daphne are lying on their backs with their legs in the air; the typical Great Dane, sleeping pose. Pickles is snoring through his snaggle teeth.

Sarah stares into some papers sprawled on the table. The incandescent light reflects off her brown hair. It takes me two well-directed jumps to land into her lap.

She runs her soft warm hand over my now full head of hair and kisses me between the eyes. “The long hours and these bills are killing me, Wyatt. Rescue work isn’t easy- but just looking at you makes it all worth it.”

“Mommy, thank you for naming me Wyatt. I will be the bestest Wyatt ever. I will watch over you and Daphne and Diesel when they becomes old.”

“Shhhhh. No barking Wyatt.” Sarah rubs my ear and speaks in more gibberish. “How am I going to live without you when you get adopted? My heart is sick from breaking over and over.”

Words are such a beautiful things if understood. “Did you hear what I said, Mommy; The best Wyatt ever. Ever, ever, ever times infinity.”

Sarah sighs. “…But break it must. Because you deserve a forever home. Someone out there will see what I see in you. The fun and frolic, the unfathomable amount of love you offer. The mischievous and lovable puppy that is just so thankful to be alive. Someone will take you and break my heart- and surprisingly I pray for that day to come everyday.”

Sophie’s Choice

“Capture their spirit with your camera, Inder.” My Grandfather had a standard answer for why my pictures didn’t look as good as his, as he peered through his top drawer lens on his Rollie flex camera.

Thirty years later, here I am; prostrate in the grass of a Clear Lake, Texas home- waiting for the dog to show me her spirit. How do I capture her spirit , Grandpapa? The ten month old tan and white pit-bull lies on her back, limbs akimbo; silly as a tart, goofy as a ball of yarn. Her mud brown iris that encompasses her black pupil enlarges as she locks her gaze through the camera lens into my eyes.

Wait a minute; that is her spirit; a goofball.

A few months ago Sophie lived by the railroad tracks and a church in the Wayside area of Houston, Texas. A shattered front leg caused her to limp up and down the tracks but when Joel: a local factory worker showed her some love –she warmed up to him right away.

Joel and his colleague Danny brought her food and water and one day they took Sophie to a local Vet’s office. Such is the level of Sophie’s trust for humans that she willingly jumped into their car. Struggling to make ends meet themselves, Joel and Danny did what they could to get Sophie the help she needed.

The Vet was certain that Sophie would’ve been raised to breed bait dogs or a puppy mill mama when she was old enough, so he spayed her right away. He thought, when she had broke her leg (abuse or accident), she was promptly abandoned; discarded like garbage. Now she needed surgery to be a 100% healthy again.

But she already is a 100% dog and 200% a puppy. She’s playful, careless, energetic and often forgets that her leg hurts. After being rescued by S.A.V.E rescue coalition, Angela placed her with a charming family of fosters. Here she thrives amongst two other dogs, two energetic young ladies and a loving couple. They frolic and play in the lawn all day- and when they are tired; they frolic some more. In a few short weeks she will get her surgery and fully recover from it.

That is Sophie’s spirit. Despite having to endure pain and cruelty, abandonment and starvation- she hasn’t forgotten how to remain a silly-goofy-puppy.

She’s a hand-me-down dog. A Sophie who wasn’t given a choice but her choice is very clear. She chooses love over hatred, a string of a sweatshirt over a dog-fight.

Anyone who allow themselves to be touched by Sophie’s soul will be a part of her loving choice. The question is – Do you choose Sophie to give you a chance at her life?

Erica- You’re FIRED. Humanity- You’re FRIED

I swerved heard to the right and slammed on my brakes. “Oh My God, did you see that?” My car skidded sideways to a screeching halt. I looked over my shoulder into the moonless Texas night. “That dog didn’t even flinch when I almost ran it over.”

There it stood – all of twenty pounds, right in the middle of the intersection- frozen in fear. I scampered into the road where the white poodle-mix stood paralyzed in fear. “Here little guy.” I whistled, but it didn’t turn its head as if the dog had no clue I was there. When I touched its head, it reacted to my touch. I cradled it and ran back to my car as it shivered in fear- dazed and confused and very scared.

It took a bath plus some trimming of the matted fur under its belly to even figure out that the dog was a female. The cataracts in her eyes were dense and her hearing non-existent. Her thinning coat showed the discoloration where once a collar had been firmly in place. This dog had clearly been abandoned, the collar removed and had been left one the road to be run over.

She (now named Erica) probably found shelter and in a drain but the rain in Houston last week must’ve driven her out. Unable to defend herself or find food- Erica must’ve just wandered and waited for impending doom- A.K.A her destiny- to become Texas road-kill.

The decisions those a rescue worked makes are in play again.

-It is impossible to find an old blind and deaf dog a home.

-Is it more humane to euthanize Erica with dignity?

-Would the local Poodle rescue group take her?

-Will I end up being a dog-hoarder if I keep on saving these dogs off the street?

-How much can I afford in terms of vet bills for these abandoned dogs?

-Is my time and effort better used in rescuing more adoptable pets?

Here is my decision for today.

-Get her checked out by a vet for health issues.

-Give her one week to find a home while I foster her.

-Then shut my heart down. Don’t let her love crawl grow into my heart. Be blind to her

blindness and be ready for putting Erica down.

Am I a horrible person? Or am I better than the people who loved her when she was happy and healthy. Who made her a part of their awesome life when they needed Erica and discarded her like a used tissue when she needed them? People who couldn’t find it in their hearts to put her down humanely but to assuage their guilt would have her starve to death or be crushed by a car.

Those people are who they are. I’m not responsible for their soul. I’m responsible for mine. Truth be told- I’m just marginally better than them because although I couldn’t abandon a dog like they did- I will shut my eyes to her pain one day- maybe within a week. I will shut down my heart… Unless…

–Unless you are a bigger and better person than I am… Unless you have the heart I don’t have. Unless you can keep her or try and find her a home.

Please find it in your heart to help her and help me. Maybe someone can still treasure her as she once treasured her humans.

Erica’s old and deaf and blind- and she’s looking for a new job.

RAMBO- The Size of the Fight in this Dog?

We all fail.

I’m carrying a brown and rust Doberman into the ICU. His nose is dripping snot on the floor as his head lolls back and forth on my arms. Having rushed Rambo to the Emergency Vet at Gulf Coast for the third time in the past three weeks has drained me of all energy- but I still have the one thing that drives all of us rescue workers- Hope.

His body feels like a sack of potatoes in my arms and I lay him on the stretcher. The compassionate workers at the Houston Area Doberman Rescue (HADR) have given all of themselves into saving this 18 month old Doberman. We all stare at each other with empty eyes as the doctors take over his weak body.

We gave Rambo our heart, we gave him our love, we gave him our blessings, we gave him our hope…His health recovered briefly before failing again. The countless compassionate donators who paid a part of his staggering hospital bill and his loving foster Cindy who showered boundless love and care to Rambo all keep their hope alive for Rambo.

And he gave us his love.

Our tired, sleepless eyes and confused minds try and make sense of the doctor naming Rambo’s illness- Ligneous Conjunctivitus. A condition so rare that six cases of the disease have been reported so far, five of them Dobermen.

“His body can’t sustain life any longer.” The vet pinches his nose under his thick glasses. “This could be a Doberman relevant disease and Rambo’s body will help his fellow Dobermen. We would like to use his body to research this devastating disease. If you could–”

“Yes.” Cindy blurts out. Then she puts her soft warm hand on mine. “That’s what Rambo would want, Inder.”

My legs stagger. His body? But he’s only a puppy—He has not known life yet. At a year and half old, he just started living a few weeks ago.

At the end of the day- that is all he had; his Body. That is all we gave him- taking from him his freedom, his puppyhood, his comfort and his shot at life.

We took his life- You and me- we did. Not just the vile excuse of a man who tied him to a tire and a cage outdoors for a year and a half, starving him. The only water he got was off a drain. We shut our eyes to cruelty too often. We let the perpetrators slip through the cracks too often. The reason why that man could do this is because he knew he wouldn’t be held accountable.

When the last dog the owner had (the boxer) died, he should’ve never been allowed another dog. But he got Rambo- and we didn’t care.

So we failed Rambo. You and I did. Humanity did.

I wow today that never again will Rambo’s owner own another dog. If he gets one I’ll steal it. If he gets another one; I will steal that too. I am a thief- so let it be written- so let it be told. I have no shame.

Here lies Rambo- ready to leave this world; ready to leave this body that has tormented his soul.

****************

Today Rambo was Euthanized, his favourite toy duck by his side. He had just learnt how to play with it less than two months ago. Today his Duckie held his paw as he crossed the rainbow bridge. I had failed to say goodbye to my friend Cooper a few years ago. Today I didn’t turn my back on Rambo. My heart is broken in so many pieces today that I don’t think it will mend.

But it will have to. It must- Just like it did when my own Speedy passed, or when I couldn’t bear to see Cooper be euthanized. Or when Tina found Mi Corazon crushed and flattened on the road in Phoenix or when Sadku was euthanized for no apparent reason. My heart must mend because like anyone in rescue it the next one you can save that drives us and not the ones we failed.

Every bit of Rambo means love. To us humans; Love is selfishness. Love has thrashed the greatest of goals and desires into the most mediocre of fights (as I found out very recently). His love means giving and strength despite what we put him through.

Today Rambo closed his eyes for the last time.

Will we open ours?

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