Of retrievers and their focus

There's a video that's sorta gone viral over the last couple of days that had me cracking up the first time I saw it.

That dog knows what he wants, he does. And he reminds me of another dog, another golden retriever, who was just as single minded and focused about what she wanted.

One of my fondest memories of Kyra is this one evening when we had gone out, and got really late coming back. Kyra hadn't been given her evening meal because we weren't home to take her for her walk, so we had called to say we were five minutes away and that she could be fed. We walked in the door to see my poor ravenous princess furiously gobbling her meal, but at the same time, so thrilled to hear us walk in that her tail was literally (yes, I used it, go away) spinning with joy as she ate. But only when she finished eating did she turn around to come jump at us. She had her priorities, she did.

My princess wasn't quite aware of the fact that she was supposed to be a retriever, you know. When you threw something for her to, well, retrieve, she would run like crazy after it, pick it up, and then sit down to chew on her new treasure. So over the years, we came up with a new game. We used two toys, and when she would pick up one and sit down with it, we'd promptly throw the other. And Kyra would drop her first toy and run and pick up the second, at which point we'd throw the first toy again. Rinse. Repeat. But boy, was she focused on whichever toy she was running after.

The brother will tell you the princess was one of the most emotionally intelligent dogs to ever walk this planet. All I have to say is, there are retrievers, and there was, well, our retriever. The best dog in the world.

Certain members of my family may also point out that my use of the word "we" in this post is somewhat misleading. I will have you know I ventured into the outdoors at least once a year with her, thank you very much. Sometimes even more often. So there.

An update on the princess

Some years ago, a former colleague asked me how old the princess was. On being told 6 or 7, she had asked "isn't it time for her to die then?"

First of all, No. Second of all, who the hell says something like that?

When I came home this past winter, the princess, now 11, looked and behaved much older. A part of me was aware and terrified that I may not ever see her again. And then, halfway through my sojourn in London, a call came from the parents telling me she had fallen terribly ill, had been taken off all forms of protein because of renal failure, and worst of all, may not make it more than a month.

To receive a call like that, to get news like that, no matter how mentally prepared you think you are, when you're a continent away from everyone you love, is the worst feeling possible.

Anyway. The princess is a tough cookie, and her vet has got through renal failure once before. And so she pulled through. There was serious concern whether my family would be able to leave her behind to come be with me for my graduation, with the father insisting he would stay back if need be, and me saying I wanted him there and that the brother should stay back if someone had to. The brother had no issues with this plan - at least, none that he vocalized. The mother was a little offended no one asked her to stay back or come, and insisted that she would be coming no matter what, which confused me a little - I mean, why would we ask her if she was coming or staying if we all knew she would be coming no matter what? Eventually of course, she recovered enough to be put into a boarding facility and the family did come to me after all.

AnyWAY. I arrived in Delhi this past Tuesday morning, after the worst 24 hours of travel, and there she was, at the airport to pick me up. She looked good, because the place she was put in really took good care of her grooming. On the other hand, it was very quickly apparent to me that her abilities to see and hear are not as good as they used to be. She's extremely picky about her khana, hasn't barked once since I've been home (not even when a friend came to visit), but has snapped at the brother a couple of times.

We took her to our vet this morning, and we got him to check her hearing. He says it's lessened yes, but isn't completely gone. Which I suppose is a blessing of sorts.

I don't quite know what's going to happen with her. But for now, I'm making the most of her presence in my life.

I was speaking to a family friend yesterday morning, who asked me if Kyra was excited that I'm home. I was explaining how she's aged and doesn't show much excitement about anything anymore, and got this is response:

"Well, you know, she's more used to your brother coming and going frequently these days and that probably excites her more. She probably doesn't care about your coming all that much anymore."

Who the hell says something like that?

A cat experiment

Of the many, many things I miss about home, the princess is one of the most... missable? missed? You get the drift.

So lately, I've been contemplating getting a pet. Because much as I love living alone, sometimes you want to have someone go crazy with happiness when you come home, and dogs are so good at that - especially when they know you're going to feed them. But then I figured getting a dog isn't the most practical option, because crazy as B-school has been, once I start working, I won't be home all day anyway, and it's not fair to a dog to leave them locked up alone in an apartment for hours on end.

So then I started thinking about getting a cat. I'm told they're fairly independent, and actually like being left alone all day. But I wasn't sure if I was a cat person. So when my friend asked me to cat-sit his, well, cat for a week while he was out of town, I decided to use this time to see if I could live with a cat.

In a nutshell, no. I mean, I love this cat. Because you know, he's my friend's cat and you have to love your friends' children no matter what. But he's so... strange. He would be waiting for me at the front door every day, which okay, is a lot like the princess who I swear can hear you coming home from three lanes away. But then, this cat would roll on the floor and come run against your leg, but if you start petting him, walked away.

And well, okay, I talked to him like I talk to the princess, and I may have had to remind myself to do so in English and not in Bengali. But even when it was in English, all I got was a disdainful look of "please, can we not be so chatty?"

No, I'm really not a cat person. Maybe I should get a goldfish.

Evening conversations

In continuation to this.

The kitchen is the only room in the house the princess is not allowed to enter. Well, OK technically she's not allowed to climb on beds or walk on carpets either, but there's only so much you can discipline her.

Anyway, so last evening, she was as usual sitting just outside the kitchen, looking longingly inside, making a woeful expression as if she'd never been fed in her life (as opposed to one hour back). The mother, who disapproves of the way the brother and I say "kiiiiitcheeeen" very grimly to make her move away, decided to use logic with Kyra:

"Why you do kitchen kitchen? I spend all my time in the kitchen. Trust me, it's not all that exciting once you're in here."

Previous attempts at using logic with the princess:

"We don't watch you when you eat; why do you stare at us when we eat?"

Yeah, she doesn't get logic.

When wishes come true

Thamma used to repeatedly ask my parents to do two things: build a house, and gift my brother a dog. She wanted her son to have a roof of his own over his head, and her grandson to have a dog of his own.

I was in my final year of school when my parents decided to go ahead and build a house. On 10th February, 2002, the chhat-dhalai of the house took place - the structure was complete, now only the interiors remained to get started. My parents' dream was close to coming true.

My father reached the site by early morning, and spent the whole day there. My mother, brother and I reached slightly later in the morning, bringing with us mithai for the construction crew etc. Halfway through the morning, Mamma got a call from a vet we occasionally used to ask about getting a pet - he knew someone who just brought home a golden retriever, and was bringing the pup to his clinic. We promptly went down to his clinic to see the tiny one, and immediately fell in love. Turned out the little one had sisters who were also looking for homes. The three of us looked at each other - a female golden retriever? For the past so many years, we had had our hearts set on getting another cocker spaniel, one who would take the place Ruff had left behind him. For some reason, which I have never understood till today, we decided to go for it.

On the way to the house the pups were staying in, we discussed possible names. I won; Lion King was my favourite movie, our dog would be named after Simba's daughter (with a cooler spelling though). On reaching there, my mother looked at the 3 tiny ones, and turned to my brother and me saying she knew which one she wanted, we had to choose. The brother and I looked at each other; he pointed to one and said "that one?", I nodded. We turned to Mamma, who had a grin on her face. For some reason, the princess was ours the second we all saw her.

We brought her home to meet Baba, and so began a love affair that hasn't ended till today - the father remains Kyra's favourite no matter what.

We came home that evening, tired but exhilarated. A house and a dog, what more could one want? Mamma refused to cook, I was asked to order Chinese for dinner. Just as I got through to the restaurant, I heard my dad calling my mum urgently. The news had just come in; on the day her two wishes came true, but before she could even find out, Thamma had passed away.

I never know how to feel on 10th February every year.

On a far more cheerful note, 10th February is also the heppy burday of the fantabulous Puneet, who blogs here and here, and tweets here. If you haven't been following these, I really don't know what you've been doing. Go wish her! And then follow her!

Morning conversations

The princess' days' highlights, other than her meals and naps of course, come from the car rides she gets when the father is dropping me somewhere (no, I don't drive, thats another story altogether, shush now). Sample a conversation that took place this morning:

Princess: *wags tail while drinking milk-flavoured water after her walk*

(she refuses to drink plain water, don'tcha know?)

Moi: Bye mommy, I shall now depart for the day.

Mother: Are you taking the princess with you?

Princess: *ears prick up, turns to look at me*

Moi: Does she want to come with us?

Mother: She's very dignified, she will only ever go with you if you ask her to....

Princess: *bounds down the stairs, and reaches the gate in two seconds flat*

Mother: *mouth hangs open*

Father: The only time this girl is ever dignified is when she is snoozing.

I had no further part in the conversation, I was too busy giggling uncontrollably.

A night of horror

I wrote this post three years ago when a friend's dog was seriously ill. I saw the last half hour of Marley and Me the other day, and well, I howled all through the last ten minutes. However, it also prompted me to come finish this post which I had started two years ago but never got round to finishing.

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

01 April 2007

One of my biggest failings has always been that I collapse under pressure. I simply go to pieces and start raving and ranting about what needs to be done, rather than actually doing it. Two nights ago, however, I discovered that if someone I truly care about is in need, I can stay calm and do what needs to be done. Yes, I do need to take three or four deep breaths first, and my fingers tremble constantly while dialing the phone, but I can manage.

Have you ever been utterly helpless? Ever watched someone you love dearly thrash about in agony, while all you can do is look on in horror? I have.

I have a golden retriever. In my very humble and completely objective opinion, she is one of the prettiest golden retrievers in the world.

My practical exams got over the other day, and around 8 in the evening, I had just gone up to my room in the evening to start studying for the theory papers. I entered my room and heard some commotion downstairs. I came out to the landing outside my room and I saw the parents and the brother crowding around the princess. She was having a seizure.

My father was busy trying to put something between her mouth so she wouldn't bite her tongue. My mother was going on repeating "she's having a seizure, she's having a seizure", and my brother was saying "I know" to my mother while helping my father. I ran down and started dialing the vet's number, who of course, didn't pick up the phone.

The seizure ended within a couple of minutes, but soon after she had another one. Since the vet still wasn't taking my call, Baba and my brother put her in the car and drove down to the vet's place. Mamma and I stayed home, still frantically trying to get in touch with the vet.

They got back home a couple of hours later. The vet had seen her, said this tends to happen with golden retrievers for no identifiable reason, that we should keep a watch over her through the night, and bring her back if it happened again. Within an hour or so of their return, Kyra had another seizure, this time biting her tongue in the process.

By this time, it was nearly midnight, so Baba decided he and my brother would spend the night in my brother's room and keep Kyra with them, in case it happened again. Turned out, it did. Kyra paced from one end of the room to the other all night, bumping into furniture in the process, since her vision seemed to be impaired for some reson too.

In the morning, they took her to the vet again, but they couldn't discover what had caused it.

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

Over a period of twelve hours, she had six seizures that night. It's been two years, and she's never had such an episode since, touch wood.

It's been two years, but it's amazing how the emotions and terror I feel when I think of that night haven't changed one bit.

Overheard...

This post reminds of a conversation I once overheard.

A while ago, I listened to two women discussing their love for animals. One of the women claimed that she didn't know a single human she trusted more than dogs. Apparently, "no bloody human can be trusted. I'll trust my dogs over people any day you know." The rant carried on for quite some time. Finally, the other lady asked her, "so what kind of dog do you have?"

"Oh, we have daschunds you know. It's impossible to keep bigger dogs because it's just so hard to manage them and take them for walks when you don't have a servant. At least daschunds are small enough to manage."

Yes, I totally see how much you love and trust dogs.

It's fascinating the kind of conversations you get to overhear while getting a manicure in the salon.

Peekaboo

Heh. Kyra speaks.

Missing her already...

The family's off on a week-long vacation tomorrow, and the mother and I went to drop Kyra (the golden retriever) off at her usual boarding place today. I swear to you, there is no bigger heart-breaking sight in the world than Her Highness looking back at me oh-so-reproachfully as she's led away by the doctors there.

My mum was busy with the formalities when Kyra was taken away, so missed the departure. I told her not to go in and see Kyra one more time, but she insisted on doing so. Kyra, of course, seeing Mamma, bounded up to her, thinking it's time to go home already. Net result, Kyra was even more mournful when Mamma walked away, and Mamma was more upset than before.

I usually try to avoid dropping Kyra off when we go on vacation, because I inevitably break down. I couldn't get out of it today, but managed not to break down completely. The mother, on the other hand, has never ever dropped Kyra off before. I think she now knows why I try to avoid it.

*Sniff*

What they will never know...

There's a lot non-animal lovers will never understand or know.

Non-animal lovers will never understand just what a pet means to us animal lovers. They will never understand that to us, bringing home a pet is the same as bringing home a babe in arms; to us, getting a pet is the same as adopting a child.

They will never understand that our pets are family to us, that they are considered in every important family decision that is taken. They will never understand that no matter how much we crib about having to take care of our pet, we miss all those little duties terribly the second we no longer have to do them. They will never understand that no matter how beautiful an outing or a holiday has been, at the back of our mind is the constant thought and worry about how our pet must be coping. They will never know the misery we feel when we look into the mournful eyes of our pet as soon as he/she realises we are going off somewhere without him/her.

They will never know the warmth we feel when our dog stands to greet us at the front door, having sensed our arrival as soon as we entered the lane, wagging his/her tail in joy at seeing us again. They will never know the peace that can be experienced simply by sitting on the floor, with a hand on your pet who is sprawled next to you. They will never know the calm that can settle in you when your pet senses your inner turmoil and comes to nudge you with his/her nose.

They will never know the sheer joy of rolling in the grass with your dog like a little child. They will never know how soothing it is to just pet your dog, and of course, how exasperating it is when you want to remove your hand, and he/she looks at you like you've committed some cardinal sin.

They will also never know the utter trauma of knowing your dog is suffering, and that you are helpless to do anything about it. They will never know the complete wretchedness of having to take a decision that will end his/her suffering, but also his/her life. And luckily for them, they will never know the grief we go through when we lose our beloved pet.

There's a lot they will never know.