The gem that I lost!
In the summer of June 2005 I found a lactating mother dog searching desperately for food. With my bag always being full of dog stuff, I took out food and immediately fed her. She had stomach full and ran to feed her pups. I followed her to trace her kids. It was a litter of eight; two brindled, three white and three black & white. The following day, needless to say, she was waiting for me. Suddenly a name occurred to me ‘Goshi’ and the wagging tail was confirmatory of her acceptance of the name. The daily saga of feeding and bonding began. Of the litter, only three survived; a brindled one named Tuki, a fawn one christened Guchguch and a black & white one named Jukjuk.
The shyest pup of the lot was my Jukjuk. She would keep sitting idle and watching her brothers and sisters play. One fine day, Jukjuk had gone missing when she was hardly a couple of months old. After a two-day search she was found sitting inside a bush. When she came out, to my horror, her mouth was bleeding and it was slightly twisted. After rigorous enquiry it was found that a bike had run over her snout. She was unable to eat or drink anything. She was then put on strong antibiotics and fluid diet. That was the time when we started bonding. I would rush during the break time to be with her, give medicine and feed her. Many a time Jukjuk and me also had to hide behind the bushes to escape from Guchguch. Gradually, she recovered.
This devoted daughter of mine followed me wherever I went. Such was her love. She would sneak in to surprise me and perform what can possibly be termed as a dog dance. Behind those naughty glittering eyes was blind faith, love and devotion. On the 1st of October 2013, she was taken to the vet as she had lost her appetite all of a sudden. The vet diagnosed cysts and a stomach infection. Her medication was started and she showed mild improvement and on the 4th of October she went missing. She was found the next morning and rushed to another vet for prompt medical attention. She was diagnosed with renal failure.
As I was out of town, my mother was with her at the clinic. I rushed back to be with her. A hard to believe image of an over enthusiastic child, now lying lifeless, chilled my spine. I sang her favourite lullaby and in those moments of pain, wagged the same bushy tail and then again went unconscious. On the morning of 6th October, Jukjuk breathed her last. Now there is no one to sit with me after the lectures and to sing the melodious almost mute song for me as a mark of love and affection. She was the best daughter I could have ever had.
–Kuhu Roy, Baroda