About a year ago, we found him losing balance and slipping. As it seemed a bit serious, we took him to the state veterinary hospital in Bangalore where, a couple of x-rays later, we were told that the old fellow had developed spondylitis and there was little to do other than make sure that he didn't run about the old way, which was now no good for him. |
There was no cure, but while finding out this bad news we came to know something wonderful. The veterinary hospital in Hebbal is clean and efficient in a way that not too many public hospitals for humans in the country are. Most distinctive is the attitude of the staff. Not only is there no surliness or callousness, they are efficient and friendly in an informal-but-professional sort of way.
As with any teaching hospital, there will always be these interns who will be doing the preliminary checking, then the 'sir' (the teacher-doctor) will briskly do his assessment, explain the salient aspects and then the interns take over and administer the treatment. Over maybe a dozen visits, I have not seen a single pet owner or medico lose his temper. The quiet calm of the place even touches the pets who are neither unruly nor boisterous, knowing instinctively that they need help and are in a friendly place.
Our dog's final illness took me to the hospital every day, for about a week. His kidneys were gone, said Dr Kamran, and all we could do was feed him intravenously as he had stopped eating. Late one evening, when he looked particularly bad, I called the doctor and was led to another discovery. Behind the college is a sort of in-patients' department run by an NGO "" Compassion Unlimited Plus Action(CUPA) "" where our dog was given another intravenous drip. It was an amazing place "" dogs lying around peacefully, some hugely noisy in another ward, and the doctor in attendance smiling, friendly and professional. He started the drip and then excused himself to go have dinner. The only displeasure he showed was when a family came to see their puppy who was staying there. Why can't they come during visiting hours, he asked no one in particular.
When our dog stopped breathing early one morning, I rushed with him to a facility nearer home run by another NGO, Krupa ('loving animals' reads the simple legend on its logo). It's over, they said, and offered to bury him. Our daughter and I then went with them to their animal shelter on the outskirts of the city. It is a makeshift facility with a tarpaulin cover and lots of cages that have dogs in them, and a lot more roaming about freely, tails wagging as the young vet who came with us gave them their daily breakfast of bread.
The shelter is on an open rise, green all around and the eye can take in miles of peaceful country. Three of the attendants looked around near the fencing and eventually found a spot where they dug a shallow grave. Then we wrapped out dog in his blanket and laid him to rest, looking as peacefully asleep as he would be a lot of the time.
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Once the loose earth had been put back, one of the attendants went around looking for something. He came back with a sprig of wild flowers and quietly stuck it onto the grave. We didn't ask him to do it, he did it on his own. It made me show how I felt.
As we left the place, I looked at the openness all around and thought, it must be easy for a spirit to leave this world from a place like this and go to the happy hunting grounds where our pets would surely be admitted. He had given those around him so much love, including a lick on the face, if you would let him. As we drove back to town, I kept remembering all the kindness and care we had come across "" at the hospital and at the two NGOs.
The attendants who dug the grave didn't ask for a paisa and seemed to belong to a different specie from those who man the samsans in Kolkata, where they raise your misery manyfold by extracting as much money as they can from you. I want to tell everyone: try and love an animal, it will make you a better human being.