A dog and love

Certainly not my style this- Mushy things like love and how I relate to the word or what I have found out about it. But there is this Dog at the tea shop. It’s a cross between a German Shepherd and a regular street mutt. It sniffs all my friends and invariably rubs its body and stands close to just one of my friends. He pets it regularly, sometimes staring into its eyes. I felt jealous and it won’t be the 1st time.

There was Tiger, a dog of the same breed, of slightly less build. I have vague memories of naming him when he was pup, along with a horde of my cousins. I think we were all excited back then, fondling him with our little hands, and I took a liking to tiger. I watched him grow and have some fond memories- he used to walk with me till my tuition place a street away and then ran back home every time.

Yet I felt he loved me a little less or rather he loved my grandfather a little more. And it always bothered me a little. My grandfather did nothing for tiger other than maybe chase stray dogs away his walking stick when ever they went for a walk (tiger was a total wuss, scared to death by street dogs). They just kind of hung out; my grandfather did not even pet him! Tiger would just lie by my grandfather’s chair, just sitting there till my grandfather chased him away when ever there were guests. It made no sense to me. And it came to me, years later, today at the tea shop.

It’s not the biscuits, it’s not even if you genuinely care for the person (or dog in this case) its just hanging out. By hanging out without trying to change them, or even showering your love on them, there is this warm feeling of acceptance, security and even a deep profound love which is not easily understood. I tried too hard- I fed him with biscuits, I tried to give him a bath and I even tried to make him wear a collar. Not surprisingly he rejected all that love.

When my grandfather died Tiger whined all day and ran around the house a million times howling in vain. I never saw him that way before or ever again. Tiger was a happy dog, always wagging his tail and jumping on me in excitement. I wondered on that day if he will ever be happy again. My grandma moved to Chennai with us and the house in Nagercoil was left to tenants who promised to take care of Tiger. A year later when I went back to Nagercoil to stay in the house for a couple of days Tiger was there. Running around the house, gaining more and more momentum each time he leapt onto me, I could tell he was very happy to see me. Like an idiot I tried to give him a bath again. Today years later at the teashop I learn the lesson of a Dog and love and how it has nothing to do with biscuits and baths. Tiger died later that year sometime.