"If
you can start the day without caffeine, if you can get going without pep pills,
if you can resist complaining and boring people with your troubles, if you can
eat the same food everyday and be grateful for it, if you can conquer tension
without medical help, if you can relax without liquor, if you can sleep without
the aid of drugs, if you can say honestly that deep in your heart you have no
prejudice against creed, color, religion or politics… Then you are almost as
good as your dog" - Ann Landers
I am no animal loyalist. I seldom think about animal rights and almost never
stop on the road to feed a stray dog. But I definitely loved Vicky, who was
part of our lives for many years. We got her when she was three months old,
from a generous uncle. Exuberant and excitable, she jumped into our spacious
car, oblivious to the fact that I was terrified of her. A yelp here and a bark
there at the sight of a dog outside, she was a source of much amusement. Her
fluffy tail wagged furiously and her ears flapped backwards when she went on
long drives with her naughty face outside the window. And when we took a break
for food, there was always someone who would either comment on her beautiful
eyes or ask if she was for sale. We had no intentions of ever giving her up,
so she remained with us till her death twelve years later.
At that time, I was living on a steady diet of Enid Blytons. So I felt the need
to change the name my uncle had given her: Vicky. But she was responding to
the name by then and when I complained that it wasn't a feminine name, mom explained
that Vicky was the short form of a more royal sounding name, Victoria. So the
name stayed.
Vicky was no ordinary dog. Unlike her unruly neighbors, she understood what
she was being told. Hence, there never arose a situation where we had to teach
her tricks to impress an outsider. So while she stared blankly at anyone who
asked to shake hands, she watched us intently when we spoke, as if understanding
every word. She would patiently wait outside the bathroom when mom went for
her bath and bestow her with a million wet licks when she got out. Whenever
mom scolded me, she would wait for her to finish, before sneaking into my room
to give me a few reassuring licks.
Vicky hated to be left alone in the house. Till the car left the premises, we
would hear her howling. She loved homemade cake. And whenever mom baked a cake,
she would whisper "C.A.K.E." Vicki's ears would perk up immediately and then
she would resort to following us with a lost, forlorn and hungry look. This
was the look guests got when mom handed out things to eat. After getting her
share of the goodies, she would lie in the center and bark occasionally if she
felt she wasn't getting enough attention. A rather spoilt dog, she disliked
babies that mom carried and never gave cake from the bakery a second look. When
it was time to sleep, she would run into my parents' room and position herself
on the bed facing the AC. Then she would look at my mom and bark till mom obliged
by putting on the AC for her. Then her highness would lie sprawled on the bed,
while mom and dad struggled with the little space they had.
Mom had her toilet trained. Whenever she felt the need to go, she would go to
mom and bark in a particular way. Mom would get the message and they would go
out. And if mom was busy with guests, Vicky would wait till she thought mom
was free.
Eventually Vicky got older. After a point she preferred lying around near mom.
But the excitement of a chicken bone or the cake never died. A cancerous lump
left her immobile for a short period. Mom would spend hours feeding her milk.
The vet had given up as well, but miraculously Vicky got up one day and went
back to her old self. The vet could never explain the disappearance of the lump.
Vicky traveled all over with us. And we often said that she was a gracious and
dignified dog because she was well traveled. We'd notice other dogs giving her
a second look, while she went on her evening walks, ignoring them. But she wasn't
a paragon of virtue either, because of all those illegitimate puppies that appeared
from time to time.
Mom was careful about her vaccinations. Vicky was the only dog who never tried
to bite the doctor who was trying to inject.
Truly a dog with character, everyone who knew her were amazed by her expressive
eyes. Forgiving and loyal, I always believed the saying "Man's best friend"
came from dogs like her. After a reasonably long and comfortable doggy life,
she died when she was close to thirteen. She was buried in my grand aunt's garden
(along with several of my grand aunt's favourite dogs). It took us a long time
to get used to the fact that she wasn't going to be around anymore. It truly
felt like the death of a family member. We never had any pets after Vicky, as
mom didn't think she could get over the loss of a dog yet again. Also, it wasn't
often that you came across dogs that looked down at dog biscuits, and gave you
birthday presents!
©
2001 - 2002 Roopa Sarah Thomas
