Saying good bye to Sparky when we left for India last July was not easy, and we had no intention of taking on the responsibility of another pet when we got to India. But India holds surprises around every corner.
The first time I saw a homeless dog wandering the streets of Kodaikanal I was surprised. Homeless dogs are not a thing back home. Stray animals are reported to the proper authorities and are removed from the streets. Not so over here. My first instinct at that first sighting was to go get the poor creature and find out where he had come from so as to return him to his owner. But that instinct had to be squelched and caution had to be observed in regards to the street dogs of India. The reality is that these dogs roam in packs and can be dangerous.
Our home in Kodai for the remainder of the year, mid-August to December, was an old stone home that was built at the turn of the century by the British. It is nestled against the side of a mountain and has a breathtaking view of the valley and planes of India beyond the mountains. We hadn’t been there for long when we realised that this home came with its own dog. We had instructions to keep all dogs off the property to the best of our ability. A sling shot with a small pebble was available to frighten them away if they came around, I am an empath and a dog lover so this was not an easy thing to ask of me. But I tried. One day a mid-sized black dog showed up in front of the house. I grabbed the slingshot. I purposefully aimed so as not to hit the dog, but only frighten it away. I hadn’t counted on the pebble ricochetting off the ground and hitting the dog in the belly. I felt horrible when he yelped in pain and just stood there staring at me as if to ask “why did you do that?” I didn’t frighten him away at all! I believe I simply hurt his feelings, I certainly hurt mine. I ended up going to make sure he was alright. He was and I never touched the slingshot again (until the monkeys came around, but that’s another blog).
That same dog kept showing up but never doing any harm. He would pass through the yard as if he were the assigned watchman for our home, Then the storms hit. Monsoon season was upon us and it hit with a vengeance. Thunder and lightning filled the skies and the dog sought refuge on our covered back porch. There was no way I could send him out into the stormy dark night. He was frightened by the storm and was shaking like a leaf huddled in a dry corner on the back deck. My empathy took over and I slipped outside and crouched down next to him. He let me hold him tightly and seemed to calm down while I sat there next to him, I know. Wild, stray, homeless dog. Ticks and fleas be damned! He was frightened! The worst of the storm passed and he seemed okay again. The table on the deck offered him shelter from the rain so I laid out a rug for him on the stone surface underneath it and he fell asleep.
I started looking for scraps to feed to him and eventually ended up buying dog food for him. He liked being fed and having fresh water every day and the rug under the table on the back deck became his home. He would sleep most of the day because he roamed the mountain every night. He would show up early in the morning for his breakfast and then fall asleep under the table for most of the day. We contacted the local KSPCA for their advise and help on keeping him healthy. They showed up to give him his rabies shot and told me where I could get deworming pills for him. I purchased flea powder from the local pet store and a dog brush. He loved all the attention, and he loved me. He would follow me everywhere. I would go into town and he would wait for me outside the various stores I would visit. People would ask me if he was my dog, to which I would reply, “No. I am his human”. He was a mountain dog after all. When he started following me around, I would tell him “Go home Buddy! I work alone!” (A phrase taken from the movie The Incredibles.) The name stuck and he soon recognised Buddy as pertaining to him.
He earned his keep. While we lived there on the mountain he would warn us when bison were near. It was so nice to have that extra dog alarm around as bison can be dangerous and should be treated with great respect. He also alerted us when anyone would come visit who did not belong on our property. How could you not love a dog like that!?
Christmas was coming and we would soon be leaving for Calgary. What to do with Buddy was nagging my conscience daily. He wasn’t really my dog. We fed him, loved him and watched out for him but he belonged to the area. He would disappear every now and then and be gone for several days in a row. We assumed he had another home somewhere that he was also devoted to. One day after being gone for several days, he showed up with a leather collar with large silver studs. Obviously someone else was fond of him as well. That eased my conscience at the thought of being gone for 3 weeks. The collar did not last however. His neck and head are almost cone shaped and the collar slid off easily. I did not take it off! And on another morning visit shortly after he showed up with the collar, it was gone.
Our departure day was at hand. Our neighbours, the Krauses watched over him after we left, but their return to the states was fast approaching as well. I knew he could take care of himself but it was hard to think of him without that home base where he was guaranteed food, water and love.
Home for Christmas and back again by January 4. We are now living in a different location. I couldn’t wait to go see if Buddy was still around. I would get reports from local people who were next to our house every day that they had seen him and he seemed fine. He was fending for himself. That was good to hear, but I really wanted to see him. After several visits back to our old place, I began to lose hope that I would see him again.
Two days ago we went to meet the people who are now living where we were. They are the long term residents of that place and finally meeting them was wonderful. Our visit concluded about an hour before sunset. As we were getting our helmets on and preparing for the scooter ride home, Harold announced, “There’s Buddy!” I did not want to get my hopes up because there are other black dogs that hang around that area. But I called his name with some doubt in my voice. He recognised us and approached with less excitement than I had imagined he would, but then he realised who we were and the reunion was so wonderful! After lots of hugs and love, I opted to walk back to our new place, a 2 km walk, and Harold rode the scooter home. I wasn’t sure if Buddy would follow me, but he didn’t leave my side once that whole walk back. Long story short, once we get home, I fed him, brushed him and laid out a rug for him to sleep. The next morning he seemed antsy to be outside so I let him out and he was gone. Reports back at our old place say that he was back there again and apparently had a girlfriend. So all is good with Buddy. We can’t own him but him being a regular part of our lives for that short while was such a treat.
Our new home comes with a dog, We’ve named her Sandy…
Amstutz Journal 