This is the story of a journey from fear to love.
Is it possible to convert fear to love? Well, as they, nothing is impossible.
As it happens, I grew up in a pet-less household. Although I always knew that my mom was an animal lover, apartment-living did not allow for an animal to be part of the family and since as a child I had no extraordinary fondness for animals, I did not ever ask for one. Quite the contrary in fact, I was terrified of anything on four legs. This unusual fear could be because I was once bitten by a big fat lizard (yes-believe it or not!!) - not the most encouraging experience for a timid and shy child. To make matters worse, our family astrologer wrote on my horoscope, “likely to suffer dog-bites once or twice”. This was widely discussed and joked about, but to me it was not funny to keep waiting to be tasted by any mongrel who took a fancy to me. I became reluctant to visit relatives and friends with pets. When out on the streets, I was terrified of street-dogs and could see nothing but their fangs.
As luck would have it I married a dog-lover. My partner adored dogs, of all shapes, sizes and breeds. He never stopped complaining that his childhood desire to have a pet was summarily dismissed by his parents. Then my little girl came along. She was one step ahead of her Dad; she adored the whole spectrum of living things including birds, bats, insects and worms. The two pleaded with me relentlessly to get them a puppy until I reluctantly decided to overcome my inhibitions and reconsider. I happened to conversationally mention this to a colleague of mine, who very enthusiastically came back within a couple of days with news of a litter of Labrador pups available with a breeder. She said she was adopting one and asked if I would like to take a look at the rest. I mentioned this to my family and decided to go take a look with the strict understanding that we would come back and discuss at length before taking any decision. I clearly stated that I was going there with zero commitment.
We went to take a look at the litter. One particular puppy had its mouth smeared with milk and rice as it had been fetched from out of its feeding time. We all took an instant liking to it, but I withheld from showing my approval. Or so I imagined! The other two instantly sensed my softening stance and my husband made on the spot payment and decided to take it home, much to my surprise as we had not gone prepared with a basket to carry him back in. The cute little live toy was put in a cardboard box and we carried him home. Since he was a Leo by his date of birth, we decided to call him “Simba” after our favorite animation character from the movie Lion King.
Simba was all of six weeks old when he came into our lives. Even then he had a personality of his own. He wagged his tiny tail to show pleasure and growled at displeasure. He drank his milk with gusto and was ashamed of tiny mishaps before his toilet training was complete. At this stage there are practically no differences between adopting a human baby and an animal one. As with human babies, so also with animal ones, parents have to through with the entire gamut of liquid diet to weaning, toilet training to vaccinations, etc. It has to be protected from drowning or getting burnt or getting run over by vehicles.
I had always had thoughts of adopting a baby; just that I had not imagined myself being mom to an animal baby. Coupled with that my fear of anything on fours persisted and I was not much into cuddling the puppy Simba, something that I regret till this day. This was soon to change though. As it happens, Simba was a restless mischievous puppy, tearing to bits cushion covers & newspapers, chewing on shoes, tasting anything that he could find. One time he ate up a live cockroach! Another time, I fell asleep while reading a book and when I woke up a quarter of the book had been chewed away! I was too embarrassed to tell British Library the real story, instead I reported it lost and paid a fine. Due to one such misadventure, one day when he was around eight weeks old he contacted an infection and due to repeated motions was rapidly losing fluid from his body. I called the vet, he said, ‘avoid milk, and ensure that that he continues to have water.’ This was easier said then done. Simba did not recognize water as he had not been weaned and recognized only milk as consumable. He refused to drink and gave me confused looks as to what was this strange liquid that I was putting in his bowl instead of the milk and cerelac mixture he was used to. I tried forcing water into his mouth with a dropper syringe but to no avail. I called the vet again, he said, ‘keep trying’. Remembering a scene from the movie Born Free, I started dipping my hand in water and encouraged him to lick the moisture. By evening, as Simba had lost a lot of fluids and was showing signs of dehydration I SOS’ed my husband. By this time the little one was sitting in a corner, listless, with a vague look in his eyes that I could not fathom. It struck me then that I was failing as a mom…When my daughter was little I could physically feel her every need, a capacity that nature gives every mom. In Simba’s case I could not feel as I was not biologically connected to him. This thought was such a powerful blow to my already weakened mind that I began to cry. I went to the corner and sat next to him. He put his little head on my hand and lay there limp. I feared the worst and tried to keep him awake and to continue to put my damp thumb into his mouth. When what seemed like light-years later my husband got home and took us to the Vet’s clinic, the vet confirmed that he was in bad shape but was not irretrievable, thanks to my day-long effort. He offered to keep Simba overnight so that I could go home and rest. He even suggested that I was showing signs of a nervous break-down and should be taken to see a doctor who could administer an intravenous tranquilizer. We followed his advice and I was able to sleep that night.
Since that day over the years Simba and I have come a long way…. I no longer feel unconnected. I can feel his every need and he can read my thoughts. He is big handsome fellow now. He is my ardent fan and I am his. He has established individual equations with every family member…that includes expressing emotions the doggy way- positive ones by wagging his tail, jumping and throwing himself at you, curling up on the lap and negative ones by growling, showing his fangs, nipping at your hand, and even biting. The prophesy by the family astrologer has been proved utterly bogus in the meantime. Simba has bitten every family member, but me, more than once!!
