He came in a basket all the way from Mumbai to my village in Kerala. He was destined to be a mallu and eat mummy's morukuttan and matti varuthatu. He did try to put up a fight against destiny when he stubbornly refused to eat rice with sambar or diluted avial. But very soon he was relishing jack fruit, coconut, papaya, tapioca like a true blue mallu... he adapted to our mallu ways...he had no choice.
This golden retriever pup stole our hearts the day he gingerly stepped out of his basket and came wagging his rat-tail at us. He hypnotised us with his innocent yet naughty eyes. When he was older the same eyes could look into your soul. The eyes that had so many questions in them became full of answers and very gentle.
Chigo ate, played, chewed and bit everything(including us), drove mom mad, and before we realized, became a handsome devil. He never learnt to shake hands like most dogs. Maybe he was too much of a free spirit to be disciplined. When my bro ordered him to get into his kennel, he very obediently ran away into the fields. He always gave us a soul-searching look before vanishing, as though baffled at our folly. Soon he became the rage of the village. Among the Indian mongrels he strutted his stature. He would run into the paddy fields and all we could see of him was his bushy tail. His bark was heard far and wide and he barked unnecessarily to show off. He had a different relationship with each one of us. He respected dad, tolerated mom, competed with bro and saw me as his harmless equal, his playmate.
The day he died, I was at home but not with him. I had come home from Ernakulam and was surprised at not getting the usual warm and wet (licking) reception at the gate. I called out for him...no response. I asked mom, she told that he had not been keeping well and could be sleeping under some tree. I went looking for him and found him under a coconut tree. I petted him, he responded but didn't get up. My heart went heavy. I sat with him for some time and then my mom called me in. After some time I got to know that he was no more. To this day, I feel guilty about not being with him at his last moment. I see him running around trying to jostle a stick from me, his tongue sticking out and his eyes full of mirth. I see him sitting near dad's chair with his chin resting on his feet. I see him defying my brother's attempts to tame him. I see him nudging out the meat pieces from the rice and leaving the rice uneaten to the annoyance of my mom. I see him looking at the infant Vishnu with a perplexed expression. I see him sneaking in through the fence looking guilty. He was the only one who enjoyed my singing. He is my Chigo.....he lives with me....
This golden retriever pup stole our hearts the day he gingerly stepped out of his basket and came wagging his rat-tail at us. He hypnotised us with his innocent yet naughty eyes. When he was older the same eyes could look into your soul. The eyes that had so many questions in them became full of answers and very gentle.
Chigo ate, played, chewed and bit everything(including us), drove mom mad, and before we realized, became a handsome devil. He never learnt to shake hands like most dogs. Maybe he was too much of a free spirit to be disciplined. When my bro ordered him to get into his kennel, he very obediently ran away into the fields. He always gave us a soul-searching look before vanishing, as though baffled at our folly. Soon he became the rage of the village. Among the Indian mongrels he strutted his stature. He would run into the paddy fields and all we could see of him was his bushy tail. His bark was heard far and wide and he barked unnecessarily to show off. He had a different relationship with each one of us. He respected dad, tolerated mom, competed with bro and saw me as his harmless equal, his playmate.
The day he died, I was at home but not with him. I had come home from Ernakulam and was surprised at not getting the usual warm and wet (licking) reception at the gate. I called out for him...no response. I asked mom, she told that he had not been keeping well and could be sleeping under some tree. I went looking for him and found him under a coconut tree. I petted him, he responded but didn't get up. My heart went heavy. I sat with him for some time and then my mom called me in. After some time I got to know that he was no more. To this day, I feel guilty about not being with him at his last moment. I see him running around trying to jostle a stick from me, his tongue sticking out and his eyes full of mirth. I see him sitting near dad's chair with his chin resting on his feet. I see him defying my brother's attempts to tame him. I see him nudging out the meat pieces from the rice and leaving the rice uneaten to the annoyance of my mom. I see him looking at the infant Vishnu with a perplexed expression. I see him sneaking in through the fence looking guilty. He was the only one who enjoyed my singing. He is my Chigo.....he lives with me....
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