When Simba came home...

A cute little beagle came home one cold November evening. At first, I refused him. Not just in my heart but denied him entry into our home. When the condominium guard called to inform that a man has got a puppy in a cage for us, I was livid. “Please let ‘that man’ wait for my husband, for I have nothing to do with a pup.” I said in as cold and curt a tone that he would have fathomed the seething rage within. Of course, there was the other angle to it. I was playing safe with a hubby who might blame me later on for accepting a pup before checking on its lineage and breed. Having burnt my fingers far too many times, it was my chance to play safe, I thought. So, the man waited in the cold November rain. Inside, I was quietly wrestling in my mind as the most inevitable moment has arrived. A pet was arriving! I hated the idea. A new member was coming to share our space, our life and our time. I had vehemently opposed it but I lost that battle. I failed, as my Vet sister and my husband conspired on this and that’s how the 45-day-old beagle whom we named Simba inspired by the Lion King?character, came home as a gift for my son’s fifth birthday.

I confess that I am not a die-hard animal lover. Never was, even when we had many pets – dogs and cats that ran amok the house as we were growing up. I have a rather neutral approach to this awfully sensitive subject. My reasons were more pragmatic than anything else. I knew for one, that a pet is as good as a child and they need undivided attention and commitment. That, there was no cheating or compromise there. Space was also my concern in our already-crunched space. Plus, where was the time to look after him when I was already on top gear with two boys (the big man and the little boy). But there was another main conspirator in this story. Chanda whom we lovingly call mother of Coco Channel, a furry four legged. Chanda first sold the idea to my husband who anyway could not get over his Petsy and Tootsie – his childhood Pomeranians and dreamt of having one.

I grew up in a sprawling home in Manipur with an elder sis who showed all promising signs of being a vet right from when she was a little girl (catching frogs, dissecting and stitching up with all parts intact; freeing them and rejoicing when they would jump in a pond soon after the surgery). She was a pet lover and had immense patience. Since childhood we raised as many as 13 dogs at one time. And so, I was longing for a quieter life unperturbed by any four-legged intrusion. So, I naturally repulsed at the idea of a pet.

That night when Simba came, we did not sleep. The little creature howled through the night. What did my husband and I not do to keep him calm and asleep. We took turns to pet him on his make-shift bed – a fluffy pillow. Patted him till the little puppy felt asleep.

?The anxiety of separation from his mother and perhaps sibling was painful for Simba. Not ever toys could substitute that. We fed him cerelac like a baby and felt relieved when he ate a bite or two. Some nights I would sing till he fell asleep. Coco Channel suggested that I keep a clock next to him. The ticking of a clock would remind him of his mother’s heartbeat, she said. It worked and every night as I put him to sleep on his furry new bed, I put a clock aside. The ticking of a clock eventually put him to sleep. Weeks passed and he grew. From 2 kg he became 5, 7 and more, gradually. Taking him to the vet and slowly changing his diet based on his weight, became my duty – very conveniently palmed off by the cunning boys who dutifully forgotten their words. Anyway, for me, it was a process that was slow and steady. My initial fear and nervousness of holding him slowly waned. It became a natural process of embracing him even though this responsibility was thrusted upon me. With constant input from my sister, I improved myself when it came to handling him. Bathing him, feeding him, taking him for a walk turned into joy from what I considered a chore. Simba became a part of our life. Part of my life.

With that joy came many things. For instance, many mornings were unforgettable with unescapable whiff of freshly-dropped poops. Little heaps would pile here and there. The stench at times overpowered the best of incense. It needed constant cleaning and mopping. He chewed our slippers and whatever his tender teeth could catch hold of. For months, none of us owned bathroom slippers.

Our spic and span house soon became under threat. Hair and more hair were here and there. Tirelessly it was cleaned over again and again. I grumbled over every strand of hair on the sofa and bed. We lived with it.

The wires of our music system were shredded. So was our sofa. Or the legs of our coffee table. One day he tore apart my husband’s favourite sandal. I rejoiced in secret hoping Simba would be sent away! Far from it. In fact, I was stunned by the gentle reaction of a man who would have ranted over his favourite things being destroyed. Slowly and unconsciously, Simba was teaching us the secret nuances of life. We became students of many new things that life had to unfurl. Yet we never realised or were aware of the transition that was taking place inside of us.

And so, we lost count of the things he chewed. And I have lost count of the ways he slowly transformed us. He showed us our gentle side. He showed us patience and unconditional love and all that came with it.

He grew to be my son’s best friend. They bonded like siblings they never had. Simba was the first thing he petted in the morning and, the first to take his attention after school. They were inseparable and looked for each other the moment they were out of each other’s sight.

Then came an unexpected time in our life when we had to give Simba away due to a medical condition in the family. It was with a heavy heart that we gave him up for adoption. A messaged we posted on our social media, got us barrage of calls. Of all the many who called, we chose a family who already had a beagle named Buddy. The family was looking for a friend for Buddy. It felt most right to give it to them. The time came for them to pick up Simba. They took him home leaving us broken hearted. To this day…

I now think of so many things that this four-legged left behind. Not just memories. But it etched an indelible lesson in our life. That he was genuine when he needed our company. It was with no agenda. He loved us unconditionally and in the purest form. His eyes were pure; deep and when he looked straight into our eyes, he had a magical way of touching our souls. All through the lockdown, it was Simba who, in hindsight, helped us sail though the toughest days. He was our ticket to movement. And it was him who opened a new world of friendships with other pet parents – a lovely bunch of people whom I took no time in calling them friends. So, there was Gabbar; Einstein, Elsa, Athena, and we loved them just as we loved their parents. A new camaraderie was born.

So, that day, when I was packing his belongings, he followed me as if to ask “where are you sending me away, mom? I held out a sturdy paper bag and put in his belongings: toiletries – a good lot of them that my husband, a doting father has bought over the months that Simba lived with us.

One by one I put all his things. A shampoo, a tick spray, a mouth spray, a deodorant and a lotion. And then I put in his towels, a beige and a grey that he loved to play with and sometimes sleep on. I wondered what would make him feel a sense of being and not feel dislocated. I am sorry Simba, I pleaded with him as he looked into my eyes sensing that he had to go.

When it was time for him to go, he just jumped into the waiting car fully aware that he was being given away and therefore in a quiet protest did not even look back. I cried even more at his reaction. But it served me right. It served us right.

An unusual silence fell into our home. Suddenly, the boisterous beagle noise that used to irritate us so much was what we pined and longed for the most. I had cribbed endlessly over the shedding of hair all over the house. How petty that was in retrospect, I thought. For the joy it gave was immeasurable.

Our evenings became dull and quiet. There was no one waiting for us nor seeing us off. The sudden emptiness was killing us.

Our pursuit and definition of a perfect home might have been flawed. Often, we allow very small things like “look and appeal of a home free from hair and a little mess” as a definite and ultimate spell of perfection. Simba left behind large imprints. That, life is made up of many imperfect moments and the real beauty lies in those moments. The ups and downs denote musical notes of life. That life has to be embraced in totality and in all its essence. That love must never be with conditions. Then it wouldn’t be love at all. I believe Simba came into our life with a purpose. He left us wiser and better! He left us more compassionate!