Julius Machado pays a tribute to man’s best friend in this short story
WE CAME back from our grocery trip and there he was, sitting on the third step below the landing of our flight of stairs. He had not moved from that position since we had left, which was two hours ago. A loyal friend to us, he could turn into a snarling sentinel in no time. His job was to stand (or rather sit) guard for our two kids, who, we had left alone in the house. He was Gino, our dog of nine years, the fifth member of our family and worthy of trust we would have hesitated to bestow on humans. For we were doubly sure, that any impostor trying to even contemplate climbing that flight of stairs to our first floor residence in our ancestral bungalow, would have wet his pants just at the sight of Gino baring even half his teeth.
Gino was not a super breed. He was a street dog we had adopted and lovingly nurtured to adulthood. We ourselves never became aware of how he evolved- from a rolling puppy to his self assumed role of a fierce protector of our household. When my elder son learnt cycling, Gino followed him wherever his cycle went – in the manner of Mary’s lamb. For an hour, or two hours, Gino tailed his cycle with unfailing tenacity, benignly ignoring the barks of the neighborhood dogs, who resented his invasion of their “territory”.
There was however one time when we all fell foul of Gino. That was when we enrolled our son into boarding school. Having suddenly been deprived of his buddy, Gino lapsed into a depression of sorts for many days, and never showed pleasure when we beckoned him. “Where did I go wrong?” was the imploring tenor of his expression. How he missed him was evident when my son came for a short break from his boarding school. Having wagged his tail to ecstasy during his stay, Gino drove us to both tears and desperation when the time came for us to see him off. Gino got into the auto-rickshaw which we had hailed to take us to the railway station and refused to get down. All entreaties by me, my wife and my son met with a whine and cold stare, and any attempt by the hapless auto driver or onlookers- who had gathered to see what the hullabaloo was all about- was met by a snarl which left them dumbstruck with fright. Ultimately we cheated Gino- we all got down from the auto, and when Gino too got down, suddenly re-entered and sped away, fighting back tears of sympathy for poor Gino.
Gino, while being benign towards people whom he knew, such as our relatives, friends and servants in the house, did show “attitude” on some days. My wife used to come home from her school job at 3.00 pm every day, and our maidservant Janu, who had our house key, used to come a little before that to clean the house and do the dishes. One day, when Janu climbed the flight of stairs, Gino, as usual was spread out on his usual place on the stairs. As Gino was in the way, Janu bade him to move. Gino didn’t. When Janu tried to force him, Gino did the unthinkable – he showed her his canines and growled. Taken aback, Janu said in an exasperated tone, addressed to him “OK, don’t move, why should I care? Let your Madam come and do the dishes herself!” And surprise of surprises, as if understanding what she had said, Gino quietly got up and made way.
Gino’s very devotion to his duty was what brought about his untimely end. Brutally hacked on the back of his neck apparently by small time thieves, who were attempting to steal coconuts from the palms in our backyard, Gino went missing for two days till we found him gasping for breath in the bushes nearby, his wound already in a gangrenous state. With the vet discounting all hopes of recovery, with heavy hearts, we had to put him to sleep to relieve him of his pain and distress. For weeks after that our household was in a sort of mourning, trying to get over the loss of our loyal friend, buddy, companion and protector who was no more.
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