Hush, I & that which went between us those days - Part 1

 

This is the first part of a three part story. The link to second part is given at the end of the story.

 

CHAPTER 1: The Prelude

So, the shocking news spread like current around the entire apartment complex - one of the residents had been tested positive for COVID. Mumbai was in its 6^th day of lockdown, sporadic cases were just about mushrooming and while everyone knew eventually the cases will come closer home, such soonness was something that we weren't prepared for. Only 450 cases in a city of over 200 million and one of the them was now in our complex! The shock was even greater in my building as the gentleman lived here, mere one floor below mine. The knowledge that the disease was largely not fatal to the youth made no dent on the creeping fear that the virus which plagued 140 nations, killing thousands, was now at my doorstep.  I could feel the tell tale signs of the news crawling through my body – a dis-ease in the stomach, tightness of breath and a mild discomfort all across.

The phone started buzzing incessantly with WhatsApp notifications as everyone in the complex messaged on the “Residents Group” – each one requesting everyone to stay calm, stay indoors and not pass any rumours at this sensitive moment. Till a day before, the greatest battle was to keep people from gathering in the garden below for their evening walks, suddenly that was no longer an issue. No more did kids need their daily evening playtime, adults their walks or gym freaks their outdoor workout routine .

Hush could read the worry on my face but probably not the fact that my greatest worry was for him. Since the lockdown, it had been an uphill task for me keep his walks going in the face of immense resistance from other members of the society. After all the Prime Minister had advised “ghar ki lakshmanrekha paar naa karein” (“don’t cross the threshold of your house”). A couple of days ago, we had almost come to blows, when in the middle of a disagreement one of the society members informed the guards to not let people out except to receive their groceries. When the guard tried to stop me from taking Hush down, I was mutinous – eventually I got my way, like always.

This new development was bound to mean tighter regulations on movement – and clearly pets were the bottom of anyone’s priorities. The discussion on the whatsapp group was already live and kicking with people offering all sorts of suggestions on strict containment. Eventually the society chairperson stemmed all creativity, “We have the police and the BMC at the site now. They will set the rules of the quarantine and we shall abide by them. So please refrain from any further conversation on this topic”

I decided to take Hush down for his mid day walk an hour earlier than usual. Situation was evolving so fast, it made sense to act right away - it could mean one extra walk. As I got out of the elevator, the same lobby felt different somehow. The gloom hung in the air and there felt an ominous silence that I immediately wanted to escape. Out in the mild afternoon sun, however, Hush's golden coat shone replacing the gloom with happy joyful brightness - his usual bouncy playful golden retriever nature added to the charm. He scampered around the pavement, his ears bobbing up and down in sync with his jaunty walk, his hair and tail swaying in the pleasant afternoon breeze – a little pee here, a little poop there, a sniff of the plants and a short chase of a squirrel that was quick to climb up a nearby tree. A short walk later, I ferried him back to the lobby where the guard informed me that the lobby doors would be sealed and no one would be allowed out of the building. We were being put under strict quarantine as the entire building was a potential health hazard according to the BMC. It wasn’t wholly unexpected and my query “But what do we do about our dogs?” was met with a clueless expression. I dropped in a message to our society president as I stepped into the elevator – no sooner did I step out on to my floor that her response dinged in, “Sorry Ankush there is nothing we can do. We have been strictly informed that no one can step out of the building for the next 14 days”.

“But surely people will come down and get their groceries, medicines and other essential items? Walking a dog is an essential activity too”.

“You will have to figure something inside your house. We cannot make any exceptions. Maybe ask other dog owners how they are managing, you are not alone”, came the response as swiftly as before.

For her, the conversation was over. For me, I was struggling to figure ways to get across the urgency and ridiculousness of the matter. Who would understand that walking a dog is not merely a source of entertainment or exercise for a dog, its fundamental to them relieving themselves. Being a pet parent, this was not my first confrontation with an unreasonable rule. In a country where strays are a common sight, the concept of pet parenting and empathy towards pet needs is abysmally low. So far I had gotten away by simply not abiding with any rules I felt were unreasonable, but this time around I knew I may not be able to do so. If the police were to seal the doors of the building, exit would be impossible. As I sat contemplating the next course of action, my phone pinged with a message from an unknown number “Ankush, Devi raised your issue in the committee meeting, just give us some time. We will figure something about pet walks. I have a dog myself and she wont pee inside the house either. We have a meeting with the police later tonight. I will discuss with them and try and find a resolution.” I heaved a sigh of relief. This was Javed - another committee member, and thankfully a pet parent himself. I thanked him and waited patiently to hear back from him - Hush and I had time, the next walk was not for another 6 hours.

As hours slipped by, Hush and I waited patiently to hear back from him. At ten, Hush ambled across the living room towards the main door of the house, pressed his body against it and sat down – the sign was clear, it was time for his walk.

An hour passed by, Hush had dozed off but I was beginning to lose patience, just when the screen flashed with a notification, a message on the residents whatsapp group – “an agreement with the police has been arrived – residents may step out of the building to the main gate to receive groceries and other essential items that they order for. No one steps out of the building for any other reason – exercise, walk or anything.”

There was no reference to pets, I freaked out.

Ping comes another notification, a personal message from Javed “hey I spoke to one of the police officers and its ok for residents to step down for walking their dogs so long as they do it one at a time and nowhere beyond the parking lot”. I virtually hugged the phone, got the harness and took a very groggy golden down for his walk.

Little was I to know what the coming days were going to unfold for the two of us…

CHAPTER 2 : The Build Up

The next morning overcome by gratitude for Javed, I messaged him offering some freshly baked brownies. The day started off well as I walked Hush in an eerily quiet parking lot – the whole place bore a deserted look, as did the entire city. The usual blaring of horns and chatter of people and cars replaced with crawing of crows or an isolated mynaah somewhere. It is amazing how a sight can both spook as well as charm you – the quietness & the vacancy of the surroundings was both, haunting and lovely.

As I got back to my flat, prepared my morning cup of coffee and logged in for my first work call, the intercom rang. The ringing sound startled me more than it had ever before. Since the lockdown, we had stopped allowing any visitors into the complex, the intercom had not rung for over a week now, I had almost forgotten it even existed.

“Hello”

“Saab, I am the guard calling from the lobby. Do you have Malini’s number?”

“Ya sure. But why?”

“Saab, she used to work at Mr Srinivas’ house and had been working at their house even after they came back from Spain. Now that Mr Srinivas is sick the BMC guys want to have her tested too, in case she is positive like him. We don't have her number, but I know Malini comes to your place for household work too"
 

As I got off the intercom, I was relieved to calculate that it had been 12 days since Malini had last come to my apartment. I had had no symptoms so hopefully there was nothing to worry about. I tried reaching out to her but her number came busy so I put the whole thing behind me. A thought however gnawed at me, the gentleman who had been tested positive had claimed to be in self isolation, then how come he let his maid in? I guess that's the irony of a nation full of people like us,  so used to receiving every convenient service at our homes that we are now completely unwilling to take charge of our own household responsibilities even at the peril of the lives of maids and others around us. Only a week ago, I had written in my blog " COVID - Our Crucible Moment" that this crisis will truly bring us face to face with who we are and what really matters to us. My hunch is that the only thing about this crisis that many of us would remember is the lack of household help.

It was 2 PM and I was whipping up a quick lunch for myself when the intercom went off again.

“Hi Ankush. This is Devi from the society committee. The BMC has just completed contact tracing from Mr Srinivas. It appears that after they returned from Spain, their maids continued to come to work for a few days. One of those maids works at your place too so unfortunately now you will have to stay in strict quarantine. You can not step out of your home for the next 14 days.”

I was totally taken aback. “Devi, I understand that I need to isolate myself. But why for 14 days? My maid has not been coming to work for over 12 days now. You know that no maids have been allowed inside the building since the junta curfew. Also I must step out to walk Hush!”

“I am sorry Ankush. This is not for me to decide or discuss. The decision is BMC’s. I cannot help. But please do not violate these norms – this is really serious.” While the tone was tense I could sense that it was meant for my own good, my usual belligerence could cause my own fall in this situation. “You are lucky that you are being placed in home quarantine. They could even be recommending putting you in a quarantine facility. Please don’t give them a reason to reconsider their decision”, she added in good measure.
A "house arrest", as miserable as it sounds, is not too tough to manage when you have a well stocked up kitchen, however what do you do when you have a dog in the house? As recommended by Devi, I thought of seeking advise from other residents. The most common advise that I received on our resident group, was to not worry – a dog will eventually relieve himself inside the house, when he is absolutely not able to hold in. This advise was beyond bewildering for me, as I am sure it would be to any caring pet parent. A dog would go through many stages of grief and self torture before betraying the training he has received as a pup - to never relieve himself inside his house. Such is the nature of a dog. As a pet parent, to just watch the plight of a trusting, loyal, devoted, playful dog whose happiness centres around yours, as he goes through this phase was beyond impossible for me to comprehend. 

I ate my lunch in silence and started putting together a plan of action – a busy mind worries less. I started by reminding myself, that as a pup, Hush did relieve himself inside the house. If I could teach him to relieve himself outside the house, surely there would be a way to teach him to relieve inside the house?! Apparently the age old adage “you cannot teach old dog new tricks” is not all that true. according to Cesar Millan, dogs are very adept at learning at any age. This gave me confidence. However the amount of content on this subject did not. There was absolutely no content on the internet, on “how to train your dog to poop inside the house”. Even the google autocomplete would offer all kinds of suggestions but not the one I was looking for.

How to train your dog to poop?

How to train your dog to poop in a toilet?

How to train your dog to poop outside the house?

How to train your dog to poop at a fixed spot?

How to train your dog to poop in the backyard?

….

Finally I stumbled on one article “Dogs in quarantine” – and that became my starting point. It offered me two practical suggestions –

1. To mimic the process of a dog walk inside the house – basically put your dog in his harness, carry your phone and keys etc – and then walk the dog around in the house just like a walk outdoors,  eventually taking him to the spot where you wish for him to relieve himself. Keep repeating this drill, until your dog figures out and relieves himself.

2. Stay calm - Dogs tend to pick up their master’s anxiety and that makes them anxious too and an anxious dog is even less likely to relieve himself.

I will cut to the chase and tell you that only one of these two advises worked in my case. Any guesses which one it was?

As I continued to mimic Hush’s walks, twice, thrice, ten…and over the next few days, countless times, it was to no avail. The poor boy diligently walked with me but every time we would pass the main door, he would pause and tug towards it, expecting to be taken out. Not once did he relieve himself at the designated or any other place in the house. Eighteen hours flew by....but no relief came across. By this time, Hush looked distinctly uncomfortable, and I, felt vividly so too. The story continues on the link below : https://cosmicliaison.blogspot.com/2020/04/hush-i-that-which-went-between-us-those_63.html

 

Hush, I & that which went between us those days - Part 2

This is the second part of a three part story. If you have not read the first part yet, you may want to access the same via this link first,

https://cosmicliaison.blogspot.com/2020/04/hush-i-that-which-went-between-us-those_16.html

 

Chapter 3: The Downward Spiral

I woke up with a start – the morning breeze had a little nip in it. I had left the balcony door open at night, in case Hush felt like relieving himself and figured that balcony was the spot to go at. I immediately jumped up and scanned the entire floor of the room for signs of pee or poop. This was a common practice when Hush was a pup…for the first six months, until he was vaccinated, we could not take him down for walks so he had to relieve himself in the  house. So I would invariably wake up to the sight of pee on the floor, and to avoid stepping on to it, I would first scan the floor and then get off the bed. Back then I would wish to not be welcomed by a sight of pee, however at this point, I was not sure if I was wishing to see or not see any mess – but once I noticed there was none, I almost immediately wished that there was some! The day was mockingly pleasant. As I looked at the forlorn face of my dog, I was pained at the idea of the discomfort he must be in – and a discomfort he does not know why he deserves to be in. It had now been 24 hours since Hush had relieved himself. The attempts to get him to do anything in the balcony had just not worked. We had spent the night before, till 3 AM in hourly walks around the house, each one concluding in the balcony of my bedroom. But all that he would do is to sit in the balcony and nothing more. To him, it was a part of his house, his sitting area, not a place to mess up. Exhausted by the effort and mental strain, at 3 AM I finally turned off the lights and decided to lie down in hope that once he figures that we aren’t going out for a walk, he would eventually relent. I am not sure when I dozed off, but at 4 AM I was suddenly awakened to the sight of Hush sitting upright on my bed staring down at me unblinkingly. His expression was blank and face unmoved. Unable to read him, I decided to be hopeful. I immediately got up, put on his harness and walked  him into the balcony. There was a quizzical expression on his face which seemed to say “Why don’t you get me? I need to go out”

I sensed the plea in his eyes and it hurt me to imagine his discomfort. I hugged Hush “I am sorry baba. But we cannot go down. You have to relieve yourself here. Please, can you do so?”

The weariness of the night felt less so in the bright sunshine of the morning, and I made a solemn resolve – I have to make this work. There has to be a way and I need to figure it out. I started with putting Hush on the harness and walk him around the house. After the first round itself, Hush stopped. He had figured the routine and was not keen to pursue it. He was feeling heavy, claustrophobic and these rounds about the house further added to his discomfort. Suddenly he tugged at the harness and fell flat on his tummy. If he wasn’t going out, he wasn’t going anywhere anymore. I took off his harness, and patted his head, he wagged his tail in return. I may not be able to give him what he needs, but I had to do everything in my power to make him realize that he was not being punished, that we were in this bad place, together.

Hush shut his eyes and dozed himself off in the discomfort.

I logged into my laptop, opened the calendar and cancelled all the meetings in the day, put an out of office and dropped a message to my boss informing her that I would like to take a day off. I called up the vet and hung up on her very helpful advise to not worry and hope Hush would pee soon. Scanning the net continued for hours with very little helpful material. Eventually, I disconnected and called up Devi to enquire if there was any development from the discussion with the BMC – there was none. I had no choice but to stay inside. As I poured out my woes to her, there was nothing she could do but hear me out. By this point I had started feeling helpless and the thought of sustaining this for another 13 days made me panic. What if Hush fell sick during this period? Already I had read on the internet that if a dog went more than a day or two without relieving himself, he runs the risk of urinary tract infection or constipation - the thought of such complications were manifesting in my own physical well being, my breath tightened, chest started feeling heavy and all the symptoms of hyperventilation set in. I have to keep myself calm and centred, I said to myself as I took a few deep breaths. I contemplated calling some friends for ideas, but almost any one I knew would get ruffled at the thought of my misery and in turn aggravate my own condition. I couldn’t have someone hyperventilating around me at this time – already I had to hold myself back from doing so.

An hour later, the matters got worse, the sanitation workers who had refused to enter the building to collect the garbage two days ago, had now agreed that they would collect the garbage if all households take their trash down and leave it in the bins outside the building. This caused cheer for all flats but those who were in strict home quarantine – we could not step out of our flats so there was no way of getting our garbage out. Just when I thought I had hit rock bottom – the rock bottom pulled open revealing another layer below it. I went straight from feeling miserable to feeling victimized, isolated and marginalized. The helplessness of the situation gave rise to anger directed solely at the individual who currently was battling COVID in a hospital ward and his ill fated decision to let in his maid for household chores. One act to ease his life, was causing discomfort to someone who he had never met, seen or interacted with – and the realization that the brunt of this was borne by an innocent dog who had neither the knowledge nor the sense to process the situation made my fury wild! “FUCK!!”, I yelled, followed by a loud volley of abuses hurled at people unknown, unseen but definitely identifiable as the cause of my and Hush’s current misery. It felt like a volcano had erupted from within me, which five minutes later left me feeling light and calm. A calmness that was not long to last. Over the next few days I found myself flipping between a state of calm during which I would forgive Mr Srinivas and family for their unwitting trespass, and falling back into that abyss where I would spew venom at everyone around. As this cycle of blame and forgiveness continued within me, the nerd in me also realized that Kubler-Ross’ grieving process is not a one way street where we go through stages of grief in any particular order. It’s like an emotional roller coaster rising and falling in an erratic fashion, sometimes triggered by extraneous and sometimes just unknown internal triggers. My mind snapped from victimization, to denial, to regret to acceptance to forgiveness in no particular order, revisiting each one every now and then and then again. However I cannot thank my stars enough, for having the resilience to never falling down the abyss of self pity!

By end of the day Hush looked pale and sick, he had not eaten anything all day, only sipped a little water and become completely inactive. His eyes had lost their sheen, playful nature completely dormant and lying on the floor he looked thin, old and somehow grey. Another day was coming to a close, the twilight felt darker and more ominous than usual as I sat by his side shrouded in misery and pure unadulterated depression.

Eventually, I decided to let someone in on my state. After due deliberation I decided it had to be my boss – she and I shared a great personal equation, yet our relationship was more professional than personal thus ensuring she wont be too emotional about the situation. Also her empathy was likely to soothe me at this hour.

So we set up a virtual coffee session at 7 that evening – a refreshing lightness fell in the pit of my stomach as I narrated to her the saga, a fake smile plastered across my face. She heard me with her signature patience and concern and as she spoke I could feel myself calming down a little. In her usual form she seamlessly switched from empathizing to offering solutions – practical advise coming from a mother’s perspective.

“Don’t worry – just keep talking to him I am sure he will figure eventually that you need him to relieve himself in the house. Dogs are very perceptive that way. He just needs to know that you are ok with it…..well, have you considered cranking up the AC, It may create a greater urge to pee…..how about creating a sand pit and take him there to pee – ask your guards to dig out some dirt from the garden and get for you.”

While Hush continued to remain unrelieved, the conversation made me realize that I had under-estimated my need for an emotional release – lighter from the conversation and armed with some new ideas to experiment, I gathered my residual energy. All the three ACs in the house were promptly turned on with temperature set at 18C, lights were dimmed and I went on with the task of creating a sand pit. I had a pot still awaiting a plant, so I started digging the mud out of it with my bare hands for the sand pits. I decided to create two of them – one in the outside bay area of one of the bathrooms, and the other one in one of the balconies. Both of these were the least visited parts of the house, likely that Hush would consider them as safe areas to relieve himself within the house.

Busy with some activity, the distraction soothed me from the self gnawing thoughts of Hush’s misery. It took me 45 minutes to create the two sand pits, I even threw in some branches and leaves on them to mimic a little raggedy garden. All this while, Hush lay asleep on the cold living room floor.

An hour went by and I knew I had to wake him up else he would go on sleeping forever. Sleep was his refuge from the current discomfort. I served him some yoghurt with honey, food that he was unable to resist. Then I got him onto his harness and took him for a round to the sand pit in the balcony. He glanced at it, curious at the pop up garden which wasn’t there the last time around. He walked up to it and sniffed around – the soil, the strands of the grass and the stray leaves and bushes lying around it. I looked at him hopefully, as he paused to take one last sniff of it. Suddenly his tail wagged gaily and he looked back at me, as if smiling. What?!? It was clear, he was not going to pee in the garden that I had created, no matter how shabby a job I would have done of it - it was something that I had created.

He went back into the bed room, lay down and closed his eyes. I was exhausted, both mentally and physically, and the crashing of my new found hope transformed this exhaustion into anger. Anger emanating from desperation, helplessness rushing uncontrollably from my gut..... What I did next, I would regret for a long time. I rushed up to Hush, and shook him awake…. “WAKUP! And get going!” I ran into the bedroom, livid at the situation and my desperation at what I could only perceive as his stubbornness. I put him in his harness – by now he knew he wasn’t going anywhere for a walk so Hush made no effort to get up. I shook the dog, pulled him up and started “walking” him around the house. With a full bladder and immense discomfort in his gut, the last thing that he wanted was any movement. As Hush unsuccessfully tried to use his paws to screech him to a halt, he got dragged across the floor of the bedroom. Angered at his apparent belligerence, I picked him and steadied his legs. Thoroughly scared, Hush surrendered immediately. As I paced up and down across the rooms in the house, pulling Hush along with me, I yelled – “Why wont you relieve yourself? Dont you understand it? What should I do?”. He had to understand what I was saying, surely he cant be so clueless, I reasoned with myself. A visibly scared Hush kept walking by my heel, not sure what was upsetting me and how he could appease. By the end of five such rounds, my anger subsided and got replaced with utmost shame and horror at the realization that I had made him even more miserable than he already felt. I finally stopped in the balcony, feeling weak and miserable. Hush was simply not prepared to indulge in an act that he had been trained since childhood – and I was failing to retrain him.

In that small balcony cooped on the 12^th floor of a high rise building, with no one around to see, sat a man on his haunches holding his head in his palms and a dog squatting next to him, looking expectantly at him unsure of how to oblige his master, with a slight wag in his tail in an attempt to cheer him up.

That night, the TV played on mute, I sat distracted and he in trance in a room that had never been so silent, devoid of any sounds from within or outside. Two souls in shared misery, one who thought he did everything he could in the situation and willing to do anything more if only he knew what. The other who possibly had the only key to the situation but unwilling or unaware of the same. That evening, Hush did not climb on my bed. We both had our own opposite ways to deal with the misery – he put himself to sleep quickly to ignore the discomfort, and I refusing to put myself in any comfort lay awake till 4... The story continues, the last part of the story is in the link below: https://cosmicliaison.blogspot.com/2020/04/hush-i-that-which-went-between-us-those_28.html

Hush, I & that which went between us those days - Part 3

This is the 3rd and the final part of this story. If you have not read the first two parts, you may want to read them first via the links below:

Part 1:https://cosmicliaison.blogspot.com/2020/04/hush-i-that-which-went-between-us-those_16.html

Part 2:https://cosmicliaison.blogspot.com/2020/04/hush-i-that-which-went-between-us-those_63.html

 

CHAPTER 4 - The Absolution

The morning breeze hung heavy and thick in the room, I lay in my bed feeling ironically gloomy in the brightness of the day. As I sat up on the bed I threw a glance at the sand pit in the balcony outside – it looked back mocking at me with its dry, unspoilt form. I looked back at Hush who lay there in half a coma, not even expecting to be taken for a walk. I contemplated on my current situation - giving up was uncharacteristic of me, and damnit, I had promised to offer every comfort and care to Hush when I adopted him, if this situation was not the true test of it, what else would be? I decided to change my approach - forget about walking hush, quarantine etc- I need to understand how can I get a dog to poop! As I started scanning online pages on this topics, I came across a series on assisting elderly dogs who are unable to relieve themselves without some external assistance. The videos that followed were not for the faint hearted, but they offered some practical advise on how to get a dog anatomy and how to make  dog pee or poop. Gross as they seemed, at that moment, nothing seemed excessive or tough to me.

As I looked at my sand pit, I was reminded how as a puppy, I had struggled to get Hush to relieve himself on paper or pads. I would lay them all around the house at spots that he would go to relieve himself, but Hush would pee anywhere but on those papers. It was almost like he could smell me on those papers and felt inappropriate to relieve himself on those. As I now stared at the sand pit, I wondered if the same thing was repeating itself here? Could he probably not be realizing that the sand pits were created for him to relieve himself?  All that dirt and soil and plants that I had placed there with my own bare hands carried my unmistakable scent on them and thus seemed wrong for him to dirty? I then realized that I had to do something symbolic for him to know the purpose of the sand pit – maybe Hush was not being stubborn, he was still not getting a clear enough cue that the sand pit is a place meant to relieve oneself. I may be wrong, but there was only one way to find out. I walked out to the balcony, stood in front of the sand pit, unzipped my shorts, and….relieved myself on it.

Having had my hopes risen only to be crushed so many times these last few days, I was not prepared to get hopeful again. This was one more attempt to try and try I did. I then gave Hush a massage in his abdominal area (where the bladder resides), it was clearly swollen and full – hopefully some artificial pressure would make him want to go. He stood patiently and worked against my pressure. Calmly, I got him on his harness for his walk and a short stroll across the living room later I walked him to the balcony. This time, Hush lingered a little longer at the sand pit, sniffed around curiously, he had figured something was different about it. His tail lost its wag, he stood there his head hanging about as if contemplating something. Suddenly he turned around and went back into the bedroom and lay down. Surrendering, I followed suit.

An hour later, as I got to fixing my lunch, Hush walked up to the kitchen door and just stood there. Something was unusual as he did not walk into his favourite room in the house, the place which always smelt of food. He just stood there, gazing at me for many moments and then sheepishly walked away. Surprised, I continued working in the kitchen for a while until I noticed that the house was rather quiet and I couldn’t even hear Hush’s footsteps. I tip toed towards the balcony with the sand pit, he wasn’t there, the bathroom in which’s bay area there was the second sand pit, he wasn’t there either. I found him in the other bathroom at the far end of the house sitting by himself. As he caught sight of me, he got up and walked out. Was he going to relieve himself there?, I wondered. I kicked myself for peering!

I walked back into the kitchen and decided to leave him by himself. Once again, Hush ambled into the kitchen, looked at me and then walked out. He went towards the same bathroom again. This time I didn’t bother to go and inspect. A part of me really hopeful that he would relieve himself there. Ah, wouldn’t this lunch turn into a feast! Moments later, he walked back into the kitchen, looking just as miserable as before. Damn, did he or did he not? I went up to the bathroom, and disappointment stared back at me again. I walked back towards the kitchen, wondering what was this bewildering behaviour of Hush? Maybe he was just not able to take it anymore…I should comfort him. He was no longer in the kitchen or the living room, so I went looking for him in my bedroom. As I walked in, I saw Hush out in the balcony, sniffing at the sand pit. I quickly retraced my steps and stood quietly for some time. As I slowly peeped back again, I felt a gush of joy brimming, Hush was taking position to relieve himself! With much strain and some rather long seconds, Hush peed…..for the first time in 54 hours! As he slowly marched back into the bedroom, an ashamed distraught look on his face, I bent down to give him a tight hug, patted him down repeating “Here’s my good doggie. Good Hush. Good Hush. Well done! Good boy!”

Hush was now aware that there was a corner in the house where it was ok to relieve himself. I now had to help him get over his resistance to poop, but thankfully with a few tips from the internet, I was now in a much more comfortable and centred place.

By evening some more good news followed, Malini had tested negative for COVID and the committee had agreed to put up a request with the BMC to allow for our home quarantine to be lifted. As the sun set that evening, Hush and I sat in the bedroom next to each other – none of the tricks to make him poop had worked but there was a general underlying feeling of positivity and calm around – I had been lifted significantly from the lowly pits I was in just 24 hours ago. Since afternoon, Hush had paid 3 visits to his sand pit, sniffing around it, checking it out, not relieving but nearly contemplating about it.

From a distance somewhere, the wind blew in a beautiful melody from a timeless film “Waqt” – Aage bhi, jaane na tu….

 

CHAPTER 5 – The Requiem

The ringing of the elusive intercom awoke me. I sat up at my bed, not sure when I had gone to sleep, the TV was still running, the balcony door was wide open and the sand pit aside from the tell tale signs of last afternoon’s activity was largely lying redundant. Hush was lying on the floor – not having slept on the bed for three nights now. Another ring of the intercom brought me back to consciousness, and I jumped out of the bed to the living room.

Hello.

Hi Ankush. This is Devi.

It had to be good news, I could feel it in my bones

Some good news for you. As you know Malini’s test came negative yesterday. We had an early morning call with the BMC officer today and he has agreed to lift the quarantine limitations on you and the three other families who Malini used to visit. You will still remain in self isolation like the rest of us but you can step outside your flat. You know this means that we can now collect your garbage…

Every feeling can be weighed, and akin to Archimedes principle of measuring volume of objects by the amount of water they displace, the weight of feeling can be felt by the sensation of relief that you experience within you when that feeling passes. I don’t even know if that makes any sense, nor do I care, just as I didn’t care for what Devi was saying about the garbage collection. I immediately opened the main door of my house, let out a shrill whistle and walked out of my flat with Hush’s harness in my hands. I knew I had to do something visibly symbolic for him to believe that I meant to take him down for a walk outside, the harness in my hands had lost its significance in the last 3 days.

Hush lay motionless for many moments, staring at the open door and me outside the flat in the foyer. Finally he heard the elevator door open and me step half way in to keep the door open. At this he sat up, and in a second Hush bolted out of the main door, across the foyer and into the lift.

The house door remained open, I couldn’t care less.

Hush was not wearing his harness, I couldn’t care less.

As we got out of the lift, he bolted out across the parking lot and scampered across his favourite spots relieving himself, sniffing around and getting his jaunty back.

I was relieved to note that even though he had to strain himself to poop, he was able to do so without too much struggle. The grey was shedding slowly, giving way to the familiar golden again.

I am not one of those pet parents, who refer to their dogs as their children and treat them so. I don’t feel the need to think of my dog as a child in order to feel love and care for him – I love him for who he is – he is a dog. It is this awareness that causes me to fully appreciate the fact that there are people out there who feel scared of my dog and thus expect me to keep a firm hand on him when he walks past them. Yes I know my dog is playful and harmless, but they don’t know that. Mistaking him for a child, I would undermine the fact that to many people he looks like any other large scary dog with sharp teeth and nails. Mistaking him for a child, can also cause me to completely fail at establishing a master-dog relationship that is an essential paradigm of raising a dog, even for his own well being. In fact I recall once being reprimanded by one of my friends for referring to my dog as “dog”. "How can you treat him like a dog? He is like your child Ankush", he said. To which I responded calmly, "I don’t need someone to be a human, for me to treat them humanely". When I adopted Hush I knew he was my responsibility and I did it only once I was sure I could afford him the love, care and attention that he deserves and requires. For that I don’t need to treat him like a human – he is a dog and I love him more than some parents could claim for their own children.

Those 72 hours with Hush brought to my realization the immense grit and determination I possess as a pet parent to help my dog tide through a very unpleasant and uncomfortable experience. An indelible bond that exists between him and me and the powerful emotion that exists deep within me to love, protect and provide for him selflessly. I am not sure if any other experience has ever brought me in touch so powerfully with this truth about myself. 

Tea with Marie

She feels the shift in the breeze and that awakens her – the hot afternoon stillness has given way to this pleasant evening waft. It must be almost five, she thinks to herself still adrift in that moment before awakening, her shut eyelids sensing the play of sun’s mild ineffective rays filtering through the branches of the jamun tree swaying in the garden. Just the thought of such a welcoming pleasant sight makes her rise with a smile. The sun indeed is inching closer to the horizon, the weather pleasant and the breeze blowing into the room through the balcony doors feeling a little cold on her back damp with sweat. She sits up in her bed taking in a couple of deep breaths of air blowing across the patio from the garden, fresh and fragrant with scents of rose, lilies and moist grass. “I must check if the gardener has set the sprinklers on, the ground must be so parched having baked in the afternoon sun”, she thinks to herself. The rose bushes usually look bright but she knew the roots clutch hard at the cracked soil trying to squeeze the last drop of moisture through it. Her prized roses, admired by all, a source of pride and envy in equal measures – the thought itself makes her smile, straightens her back and lifts those droopy shoulders. She reaches out for her mane of hair and untangles them with her fingers. As she shakes her head, the hair blow in the breeze, leaving a calming effect on her cooling scalp. With one stroke and a deft tug she rolls them up in a bun high up on her head, tucking irreverent stray strands behind her ears. She gets up from her bed with some effort holding on to the headboard for support, then takes a few steps and leans on to the door that opens in the porch. She waits to catch her breath and for her knees to slowly get back to life from the long afternoon slumber. Steadying herself, she slides the door fully open.

Another deep breath, and she can smell her garden – it is the best hours of hot Summer days, she opines. “Ah my dear friends, how are you this evening?” While everyone would admire her roses, her personal favourite were the marigolds. Marigolds were not the first to arrive in her garden, the first were the roses – after all everyone wants a rose garden, herself included, but the marigolds came soon after. The staple flowers of any Indian celebration, she planted them upon her return from her favourite niece’s wedding as an eternal reminder of that beautiful occasion. Of course she would always tell Ravi that this fact was just incidental and not why marigolds were her favourite. “The real reason” she would say, “is the smell. Marigolds smell so cold and pleasant. Yes, even fragrances have a temperature – close your eyes and take a mild whiff of marigolds, they emit a cooling sensation. Meerut is always so hot, its nice to sit by the flowers in the evening that feel cool to smell.” Ravi with his whimsical smile would ask him wife “So really? You think marigolds smell better than roses?” “Not better…but yeah roses smell warm.” Ravi had no penchant for gardening but he had it in abundance for her and so he would always procure all the seeds and saplings from the local nursery that she would desire then dig around mud and carefully lay compost  precisely as per her directions. He would bask in the joy on her face when in a shrub would bloom that first flower.  

She stands by the door in admiration of her garden, ah how well it has come up! Soon, the kids will be up and run into it, roll on the grass, play Catch, hide and seek and invariably end up getting dirty. They love climbing the boundary wall to reach out to the branches of the jamun tree to pluck the jamuns – she would have to call out to them to first wash the fruit before eating it. Of course their mother would make that unapproving clicking sound with her tongue at the sight of them wiping off their jamun strained fingers on their shirts. Ah, those are tough stains to remove – a worry for a mother who has to get them cleaned, not for a grand mother who revels in the joy her outdoor playground brings to these kids. “Noone can replace this, no one can offer it”, she sighs in contentment. In their little universe, there is a special corner, a corner of beautiful garden filled with thick luscious grass, shrubs of bougainvillea, bushes of marigold, rose plants, pots of ferns, moneyplant, & palms and a jamun tree, a corner that she has created and would remain in their memory forever.  Their favourite game in the garden is “Detective” – one of them would stomp over the fallen jamuns and then create purple footsteps around the porch. They would then collectively weave a story of who the culprit is and what the footsteps tell them about his actions. She would sit and enjoy the elaborate tales they would weave – borrowing bits and pieces from the comics they would have read earlier in the day or the movies they would watch with their parents. The boundless creativity of childhood lost on middle aged worrisome parents and cherished by retiring grand parents.

Her musings are interrupted, as she realizes it is still rather quiet for the hour. Should not have kids been up by now? “It is getting late”, she mumbles to herself, “Mahima should awaken them, wash their faces and let them out. It is only going to be a couple of hours before sundown”. We must also call out for tea, and some biscuits – chocolate cream ones for the kids, Good day cookies for Mahima, English Marie for her and bhujia for Satish. He has no sweet tooth, just like his parents – her husband would always say “Tea should be mildly sweet and to enhance its flavour, we must have something neutral with it.” It was he who got her hooked on to English Marie, the thin round discs with their trademark mild flavour and distinct fragrance (Sheila would characterize them as cool too, “just like the English weather”, she would laugh and say). Satish agreed with his dad’s theory only to the extend of not wishing for anything sweet with Tea, but Marie he felt tasted like nothing. “Its cardboard”, he would say “not surprising its called English, like all their food, its bland”. So that’s how it would come about that when Satish, Mahima and kids would come for summer vacations, the Tea would be served with three types of biscuits and a bowl full of namkeen bhujia.

Let me step out, Sheila says to herself, as she steps on to the porch towards the garden. Her knees still stiff from the nap. Age seriously had caught up with her sooner than she had expected – it wasn’t until yesterday that I could take a walk around the garden, now I can barely walk past the porch, she wonders. The smile still on her face but now clouding with a frown that is fast deepening in her brow. She takes another step towards the garden – the potted plants closer to the porch are right there and she can see the dandelions, hibiscus and the succulents in them but her sight fails to catch the bougainvillea shrub at the other end of her garden. Finally, she manages the four steps required to cross the porch and reach the wicker gate to the garden…where’s the latch? She feels around the gate but is unable to locate it. As she bends down to look more closely at the gate, her eyes grappling with near-sightedness, the smile on her face dissolves in a look of bewilderment. She just cannot figure how to work the gate – the bamboo shoots with a metallic latch feel unfamiliar. “When did we put a metallic rod on it?”, she wonders, “and where is the latch?” Impatience grips her, but that and the sustained bewilderment start to wear down her frail frame. Before she even realizes how, her bun’s come undone causing her hair to fall loose on her shoulders and she is crouching in the balcony holding tight to the railing her knees having given way.

“Amma”…she hears a distant cry,

“Arre what are you doing sitting on the ground? Did you fall Amma?”

“Satish, help me. Amma has fallen in the balcony. Kya yaar, I have told you so many times, keep the balcony door of Amma’s room locked properly. This is the third time since she has returned from the hospital that she has somehow walked into the balcony and fallen there”

“Oh. Amma are you okay?”, asks Satish to his very confused mother. His heart piercing with a thousand needles at the sight of his mother so frail, looking so beaten and lost. Sheila can barely respond. She looks around and finds herself in the balcony clutching at the railing and her back set against the door of the bedroom she has no recollection of walking out of. Satish and Mahima try to lift her, she struggles to get up but is glad to realize she isn’t hurt. As their collective might manages to stand her up, she catches a sight of the view beyond the balcony. Its open skies with an unobstructed view of the Mumbai skyline.

“Amma, why do you keep walking out into the balcony? What if you trip over? Achcha, come now. Lets have some tea. Everyone is up.”

The couple support her to the living room, quite bright but quiet. Sunlight filters in from the large French doors opening into another balcony – once again the only view is that of open skies stretching in the beyond with some buildings at a distance. Sheila is seated at one end of the dining table alone. The kids, all three of them in the living room unheeded their mother’s calls or dadi’s arrival at the dining table, are glued to their devices. Satish himself is now glued to the TV watching the India-Australia match which has just begun. The maid is bustling in and out of the kitchen with cups and saucers, a large pot of tea, a jug of Horlicks and plates of hot pakodas. Mahima irritated at the kids not listening to her and the noise from the TV commentator blaring nonsense excitement at a ball three men are chasing down the field unsuccessfully, is pouring out Horlicks for the kids to drink. In the din, she hears a faint sound “Marie?”. She looks at Sheila, realizing that’s where the sound came from. “Asha” she yells, “Amma ke liye biskoot lao. And Satish please lower the volume of the TV. Can you please come at the dining table and give some company to Amma”.

Asha walks in with another plate of hot pakodas and a plate of Bourbon biscuits. “Oh, you silly woman. I told you yesterday as well, amma does not like cream biscuits. Get something plain for her.” “Didi, Jim Jam, 50-50, Kaju Pista ya kishmish wale?”, asks Asha. Her mistress glares back at her, “Plain wale, kaha na! Get those plain Glucose biscuits. Amma wont eat these”. Asha walks back into the kitchen with unusual briskness to mark how busy this household keeps her.

Sheila continues to sit dazed in a world of her own, oblivious of the frenzy her one word has created for the two women around her. Mahima, done with the Horlicks, now pours out tea in three cups and places one before Sheila. “Amma, chai. And here are some biscuits for you”.

Satish and the kids join Sheila & Mahima at the dining table. Satish loads his plate with a handful of pakodas topping them with ketchup. “You know we need to get more of these biscuits for Amma. She does not like any cream stuffing ones and likes plain biscuits with her tea” says Mahima. “Marie”, says Sheila, not touching the glucose biscuits. “Hmm, oh don’t we  have any Marie?” asks Satish. “No Satish no one at home eats Marie and to get a whole pack for Amma’s 1 Marie biscuit a day is a waste. At least Glucose biscuit is a smaller pack and Asha eats those too.”

Satish looks amused, passes a glance at his mother who is still waiting  having touched neither tea nor the biscuits on the table “Doesn’t look like Ma is going to have these”. Mahima looks impatiently at him with a clicking sound from her tongue, “Ok so you find Marie and get it. Its hardly in stock these days. By the way, Amma ate glucose biscuits yesterday, the day before and even at the hospital before that. She just doesn’t remember, that’s it! It will take a few minutes but she will have them.”

The kids gulp down their Horlicks and get back to the sofa firmly planted with their mobiles, Satish reaches out for another handful of the pakodas, Mahima takes a couple as well and then switches to her Good day cookies. In the kitchen, Asha, having done with serving tea, sits down on the floor with her own cup of tea and glucose biscuits.

Sheila, her gaze fixated at a distance smiles and mildly says “Chalo kids you should be playing in the garden. The sun is going to set soon. You wont be able to play Detective in the dark”. The household, as if in an alternate dimension, maintain their activities unaffected. Sheila continues to smile glassy eyed,  reaches out to the plate of the biscuits, picks one up, dips it in the hot tea and bites into it. “Ravi always used to say, we should eat something neutral with Tea so as to enjoy the flavour of Tea. That’s how he got me hooked on to Marie”, taking another bite she says, “But this Marie somehow doesn’t taste as good”.