Is it consistent with the previous ones in the series? Were the previous titles written in title case, or was it sentence case? Hmm… then I decided to let it go. This is one place where I do not need to obsess about being right unless I am totally wrong.

So, this post was supposed to a chronicle of a dog walker. I have a story… it has little to do with dogs, but it happened when we were out for a walk.

There is this little swamp in the neighborhood. It shouldn’t be there, smack in the middle of a concrete jungle, but it is. A long time ago, this place used to a large waterbody – an extension of the erstwhile Salt Lake lagoon. It used to be owned by the local “raj” family (loosely translates to small kingdom… but in terms of kingdom, it really was tiny).

When hard times began to befall their family, they stopped the upkeep of their properties. Slowly, silt and rubbish started clogging the waterbody, and before long, most of it had vanished.

As times got tougher, they started selling part by part of this natural landfill to different owners. Some fifty years later this community is a far cry from what it used to be. It is now a crowded concrete jungle.

This little swamp remains the last evidence of what used to be – the water body. My father recalls it as a large lake with a marble pathway leading to a small marble arch in the centre. That was of course a long time ago. All I have seen during my lifetime is a dirty swamp being gradually covered by rubbish and water hyacinth until it became safe for people to encroach on it.

Recently, some of the community old timers got together to restore the “lake”. They collected money and started restoring the lake to its erstwhile grandeur. It was exciting to watch the swamp slowly taking a lovely, well-kempt shape.

Then, as we were halfway through, work stopped. Local politicos and musclemen had interfered in the restoration work leading to squabbling, and ultimately to the suspension of work.

The swamp remains half done. It is connected to the river Hooghly (I think) because it always sees a rise in its water level when it’s high tide in the river. It was on one of those days that I was walking the dogs along the swamp.

There was a little more water in it than usual, but I wasn’t sure how long we would be able to see the water. Garbage is fast filling up the space, and the water is dark and dirty.

I didn’t really notice anything until the dogs stopped. They are not very big in size but are unbelievably strong. So when they decided not to budge, I had to look. They were all staring intently at the water.

I strained my eyes to see what was wrong. There was something in the water. Struggling, fluttering – it was a pigeon. It had somehow fallen in the water and was now stuck in the algae floating around. As hard as it tried to reach the embankment, it made little progress.

We stood and watched for a good 15 minutes. The little bird was tenacious. It had managed to inch quite close to dry land. Just a little more effort would do. We left the bird at that and walked away.

A little while later, on our second round through the same route, I noticed with alarm a little girl standing next to the swamp and pelting stones into the water. She had an audience too – an elderly gentleman who looked at her disapprovingly but did not say anything.

As I rushed towards the girl, I was afraid that the damage was already done. I was right. She had managed to scare the little bird back into the middle of the swamp and it was completely sapped out of energy.

I had to be stern with her. She was still pelting stones. So I asked her not to. She didn’t listen. I asked her again – this time rudely. She stopped and then frowned at me. I didn’t mind. I am anyway quite unpopular in the neighborhood for speaking against what I thought was wrong.

We had to get help now. We caught hold of a passerby and requested him to get some one from the nearby sweeet shop. They kept pigeons. It was possibly one of theirs.

As the boy left, the bird made a last ditch effort to fly. With all the energy it had left, it fluttered – one wing – swam a circle and was gone forever. Help came a little late and when they fished the bird from under the water, the stone pelting girl was still standing there wondering why we were expending so much effort to rescue “just a pigeon”!

It was sad to leave the place. We could have saved the bird. The dogs go unbelievably quiet when they witness a death. They were quiet that day as well… And behind the tragedy of a lost life, I could not help but shudder at how indifferent man will soon grow to the plight of others.

I know she will pelt stones again, and she is just 9.

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At present I walk 3 of them – each one very dissimilar from the other. The questions that I face, right from which breed (commonest), to their age, or if they are neutered, to how they live together under one roof, are quite astounding.

One query still tickles me… We came across this lady who owns a long-haired female INDog. She asked me if Tommy and gang get regular haircuts (all 3 are short coated-Chinky’s being the shortest).

Another common query is where I got or bought them from… and when I reply that my dogs are from the street, they usually go speechless.

In fact, one uncle kept on arguing that he thought I was joking, and when I wouldn’t concede, said that at least the black one cannot be a roadside dog!

I will have to admit, I don’t walk my dogs. It’s usually them walking me. Especially Tommy being the alpha male always gets to decide where to go for walk.

There are many more stories I have to share, but I will keep them for later. Here’s just one final word:

Tommy and Blacky just love long walks. We walk for 50 mins and approximately 6 kms in the morning. It keeps both them and me fit. What I hate is the sniffing part… especially Blacky.

He keeps sniffing stuff as if he is a sniffer dog. I hate standing doing nothing while they sniff intently!

This write-up was mailed in by Dr. Manik Godbole in response to the first issue of our series “Chronicles of a Dog Walker”. Dr. Godbole is a prominent INDogs rights activist from Mumbai and a steady supporter of Paws Awhile.

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So I see three teenage boys approching us. They seem to be arguing amongst themselves. When they draw closes I can hear ” Na na… ami bolchhi eta neri noi!” (No no, I am telling you this is not a baldie street dog), I hear one of the boys insist to his friends.

Another one chimes in: “Han, o theek bolechhe. Eta biliti kukur. Amaar didir barite ei kukur achee.” (Yes, he is right. This is a foreign dog. My sister owns one just like this”.

As they draw closer, the first boy decides to resolve the fight once and for all. He asks me: “Achchha didi, boloto eta ki neri?” (Tell me didi, is this dog a baldie?)

I felt a little sorry for him. Oh the disappointment of discovering that the exotic looking dog on leash is indeed a neri.

So I looked at Aru and took a deep breath, then turned towards the boys, smiled, and said “NO”.

The young boy had a proud smile on his face, but his friend still had his doubts.

He asked me: “Tobe eta ki kukur?” (Then what kind of a dog is he?)

I thought for a second. People have been known to believe that Aru resembles a fox more than he does a dog.  Sample this:

Aryaman or Aru for short

So I told him: “Arre, dekhchho na kemon sheyaler moton dekhte? O to ekta Fox Hound!” (Don’t you see the resemblance between him and a fox? He is of course, a fox hound!)

Voila! I had made a believer out of the skeptic. Although he did not believe what I would have wanted him to (that INDogs are just as acceptable as pets as any imported breed), it still was nice to see him have his peace of mind back.

His friends were happier. One said: “Dekhli? Ami bolechhilam!” (Saw? I told you!)

The other boy’s response was however priceless: “Arre amaar didio to ei kukuri pushechhe!” (This is exactly the breed of dog that my sister owns!)

With that I will end this story, but obviously, there are more to come.

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People here in India are not at all accustomed to seeing INDogs being walked around the neighborhood in a leash. They are street dogs – PERIOD. Even if they live in someone’s homes, they are street dogs.

A nice lady had once stopped my father and me during one of our dog walks and asked “Eta ki kukur?” (What breed of dog is this?)

To which my father had replied “Eta Indian dog” (It’s an Indian Dog).

The lady reacted “Ema! Neri pushechhen? Chhi Chhi!” (Neri = bald = short haired).

What she said meant “Oh my God! You have adopted a bald street dog? Shame shame!”.

My father, who is great with words had rebuked her: “Apni shokale uthe aainaai kon memshaheb ke dekhen?”  (When you wake up in the morning everyday, which fair skinned foreigner do you see in the mirror?)

Let me just say, the lady did not take it very well.

However, we have since formulated a defense strategy, for as long as we are dog walking, the questions are bound to come.

Now, if someone asks my father what breed the dog is, he says it’s a ROADESIAN (inspired by dogs that live on roads). It’s an old moniker – a lot of people use it when jokingly referring to street dogs.

But then again, we came to know that a lot of people do not know about it as well.

Sample this: The local postmaster – a very jovial gentleman observes Aru defecating bang in front of the post office (I know sometimes his potty manners embarrass us terribly, but we try to put up a straight face in front of outsiders).

My dad puts on his most dignified smile and greets the postmaster: “Hello! Long time no see!”

In reply, he asks: “What kind of dog is this?”

Dad: “Oh! He is a Roadesian.” (smiles proudly)

Postmaster undergoes a miraculous transformation.

Postmaster (gushing): “Oww! Hunting dog, is it? Which country? Look at his ears… it is evident he is very brave and spirited. How wonderful!”

Dad (completely failing to mention the fact that dog in the leash is scared of butterflies, cockroaches, horses, ants, grasshoppers and his own shadow) puts on his most sparkling smile, and then jaunts away with the dog.

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What’s the difference between the two? Yes, you are entitled to ask that and I will try my best to answer. Let me begin with an example:

I met a girl a few days back. She made this statement: I love dogs, but I HATE cats!

What do you deduce from it? Two easy deductions could be:

1. She is a dog lover

2. That doesn’t mean she can be categorized into the group we like to call “Animal Lovers”

Now, let’s go deeper into it.  I decided to quiz her.

It turns out that she is in love with a short haired Dacshund owned by her friend. She loves that dog. The dog, named Funny, isn’t friendly with cats. So she hates cats too. However, she does not particularly care about the stray dogs that loiter around their locality and that approach her with wagging tails for bits and pieces of leftover food.

I guess it is safe to say that she isn’t a dog lover either. She is simply in love with “a dog”.

In this form of affection, we tend to look upon a dog as a person — someone who has a role to play in our life. We care about that dog and it probably works the other way around as well. In a nutshell, in our minds we separate the dog from its kind.

Your dog gets into a fight with your neighbor’s dog. You get into an argument with the neighbor over it. You hate that guy… but you hate that dog too. To you that dog (personified as bad) is someone who can hurt your dog (personified as good), and so you will step in and do something about it.

The question is what will you do?

You can scare that dog away. You can chase it with a stick in your hand or pelt stones at it every time it comes chasing after your dog.

OR

You can talk to your neighbor about getting the dog trained.

The decision you take is a reflection of who you are — a dog lover or a simply someone in love with a dog. And herein lies that key to how much you can help or not, the dog kind.

Think about it…

And remember, a dog lover can also be someone who is in love with a dog. But you can’t usually make it go the other way round.

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Personal reasons have kept me away from this blog for awhile, but with my little girl gone, the realization that she was one of the reasons this blog got started in the first place, has come back to play a big role in our plans for the future. So here we go:

We are moving. Yes, Paws Awhile will be moving from its current address (http://paws-world.blogspot.com) to its own domain very soon. Everyone who has opted to stay in touch with us through our email updates will get to know about the move as soon as it happens.

If you are an RSS subscriber, then you do not have to lift a finger either. Our feeds will be automatically redirected to beam from the new address.

Let’s hope that with the change of address, we will be able to bring forth a new beginning for our initiative. For Shundari and for all other dogs of her breed, let’s work to give them a chance at life.

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As a result, the dogs have been couped up inside the house for most of the time. This evening, the rain let up for a while and my dad decided to take two of the dogs along when he went to park the car. The place is a two-minutes walking distance from my home. The dogs love going there with my father, probably because they get to run alongside the car, and because they get to pick a fight with some other nearby dogs.

Today, it started raining again almost as soon they left. So I took an umbrella and walked up to the rented garage so that dad doesn’t get wet. The rain was heavy, and both dad and I, along with the two dogs were stuck inside the garage for a while until it let up a little bit.

As we made our way back home, we noticed a dead cat not very far away. The smaller dog is always a little restless, and it was snooping around as usual. So it took us a little while to take him and walk back home. As we were walking back, we saw a gentleman walk out of his home calling for his cat. We didn’t think much of it and got back home.

Then, as we sat down for dinner a young girl of about 18 years, started calling us out from the gate. We left our plates and went to check who was there. This girl started cussing us and yelling at us as soon as we made our way over there. We could make out that she was the owner of the dead cat, and since she has seen our dogs in the vicinity she thought they had killed her.

As much as we tried to convince her, she wouldn’t listen. Among other things he called by father and me liars and expressly said: “If I ever see your dogs anywhere near our house, they will not come back to you alive.”

That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I usually do not lose my temper but today I did. The dogs had been inside all day and this person was making baseless allegations. Not only that, she was threatening to hurt my children. That is something I DO NOT take lying down.

Soon her father joined her. He was much more civil and although we understood the pain that they were going through— we are all too familiar with the pain of losing a pet — we do not accept threats of bodily harm to our dogs, or any dog for that matter.

This girl and her family are new in the locality. They do not know us, and although I informed them about Paws Awhile and our initiatives, she seems hell bent on hurting and/or killing every dog that strays that way.

I am gravely concerned about the health and safety of the dogs in our locality. Tell me, what should I do?

Is there any legal action we can take? Will any of you volunteer to counsel them?

Give me your suggestions. I am all ears, and I am also extremely worried about the well being of the dogs that we have been fighting for so long.

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It was a rainy Saturday afternoon. People were running around trying to find shelter from the incessant monsoon rain. Some smiled welcoming the relief from the heat; some frowned on Mother Nature for ruining their shopping plans. As I crossed a crowded New Market, I saw something that taught me a very important lesson. Something that we have forgotten in this rush-rush world of ours.

Heaven does exist on this place called Earth. It just depends on where you look for it. For me, this picture made me realize that it is not the place but the people that make you feel like you are in heaven.

Without much adieu, here is a snapshot of heaven.

This is a guest post by Avik of Avik Speaks.

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