To another person it would have looked like she was taking repose in her solitude. But to my mother, my sister and me, her eyes showed something else. She seemed anxious and absent. Her jet black fur looked brown with the way she must have been ‘looked after’. I have never seen her tranquil. She seemed to me, out of her element.
If our world was ‘wonderland’, she’d be the big black dog with the heart of Mirana of Marmoreal, with the crazy mind/personality that reflects extreme different personalities and futterwackon skills of The Mad Hatter, the shrewdness of the Cheshire cat, the wisdom of the caterpillar, Absolem and the courage of Alice. Yes, this is how I’d describe Sakura, my four-year old black Labrador.
We returned at 4:40 PM from a family holiday. All the four of us anticipated getting back and bringing our little bundle of joy back home. We reached the house, dumped our bags and jumped back into the car, off to the Pet Care Hospital where she was boarding while we were holidaying.
It had been years since we all went for a family trip, since Sakura made her grand entry to our house and our hearts. In no time she conquered us. If she was our partner, she’d have left us for someone less emotionally demanding and ‘clingy’. I suppose it was a good opportunity for her to get her space and us to go vacationing. Or so I thought.
We entered the building, somehow oblivious to the barking dogs around, looking for her. It was mum who found her lying in a corner. My sister and I caught up with mum. She saw mom, her eyes expressing recognition, her nose sniffing the air. And as soon as her investigation confirmed her hope, she leapt with joy on us. The muscular tail wagged incessantly, and in ‘Wonderland’, it could have brought about a storm, flinging off Jabberwocky far away.
Even before the staff could unleash her, I tugged at the leash tied to a door and took her outside, finally, towards the car. She seemed perturbed amidst the excitement and plum-cake hogging. It crossed my mind that her trust in us must have wavered. Nonetheless, she stood on my sister’s lap, poking her black head out the window, her ears flying.
Back home, we got her some ice-cream. It’s the look on her face and the colour in her eyes that make hearts melt while she’s licking her ice-cream with ardent concentration and pleasure. The colour in her eyes fluctuates, as per her disposition. Brown when she’s trying to find out what’s cooking, black; the puppy dog eyes when she wants something and a dark shade of blue when she’s up to no good.
THAT look gets her whatever she wants.
Even her eyes don’t make up for the dirty brown colour of her fur and the stench of the up keep of the boarding place. That’s when I and my sister drag her to her bath area. She was reluctant, we were determined. We gave her a bath that made her fur regain its ebony colour, leaving a trail of subtle tea tree fragrance. It’s after taking a bath that she becomes retarded, running about the house without really looking, slipping, bumping her head on the doors and walls and sliding on her bum, resulting in mum getting annoyed at her, screaming at me instead.
After what seemed an era of chasing her, I finally got her to calm down and sit still, while I blow dried her. She likes being blow dried. She tilts her head to one side, sighs, her eyes half-open, trying to evade sleep. As I continue, I come across a bump on her lower back, somewhere along her spine. It got me worried. Then I see another swelling on her left hind leg and her snout. I pointed it out to mum. We both knew it was the shelter that would have resulted in this. I was furious. But then, mum said that they at least fed her while we were gone.
She looks up at me, cocks her head to her right, leans closer, and licks my face. I pat her and she rolls over. She reminds me of an upside down buffalo when she does this. She wants me to play with her. So with her towel, we play tug-of-war till she falls asleep.
It’s today that the family has, mutually, relinquished the thought of leaving her at a shelter and going for a trip. This was the first and last time we left her. She knows that too. She understands the language of our unsaid thoughts, the look in our eyes. Yes, she knows. And this time, we will safeguard her trust in us. One of us shall stay with her, while the rest could travel, from now on.
She is fast asleep now, next to my foot, with the tip of her tongue sticking out. She looks at peace. She looks happy. She looks secure. She looks loved. And this January, she will turn 5. She is the third daughter, the spoilt-rotten one. And I love her more than anyone or anything else in this world. Yes, she comes first for me. Well, at least she convinces me so with just a lick on my face and falling asleep on my lap.
intricatepattern 