We had a strong and devoted dog: I had taken the puppy when I was 7 from a neighbor who had 4 of them. He came to our house to share our poverty. We, the seven children, liked him and fed him a little of whatever we got for lunch and dinner. We could not be full anyway and we did not mind parting a little from our share so that he was alright. We christened him 'Kaman' and he turned out to be very loyal and good. He would accompany my mother when she went to church and bounce at any street dog that dared to approach her baring his canines. He was ferocious and none dared to even speak aloud when they walked along the road by our fence at the fall of night. We did not have a gate and he was our unpaid guardian. We used to take him to the river nearby too and took pride at his gait and manliness. He would hold his head aloft, put the tail in a militant curl atop and trot a little ahead. No stranger could ever dare to approach us. There were days when I used to give the whole portion of the rice my mother served me for dinner, after making it into a ball, as a protest against the insufficient quantity. It wouldn't quench my hunger anyway but it helped my dog stay fed that night. When he was three he bit badly a neighbor of dubious character during one of his nocturnal, villainy errands. The villain mixed broken but sharp pieces of glass in rice and butter and fed our dog. The next day morning he lay in our courtyard convulsed with pain. We did not know what to do.Our beloved dog was in agony. We had no means and there was no vet then anywhere around. He would tower his body up on his hind legs and then collapse down with piercing pain. The ordeal was over for us more than him, when he breathed his last due to internal bleeding the same day. We buried him in our compound and placed an old wooden cross over his tomb. For the next several days we went there and cried. I realized for the first time in my life that death is a very painful reality and that we are helpless before it.
Awwww......... beautiful !
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