An eerie, frightening howling of dog outside in the corridor
woke me one Sunday morning. It’s 6 in the morning, last summer. The cry was
very intense, painful and ominous. My friend who was putting up with me that
day thought some misfortunes would fall upon the tenants of the building as was
customary.
My mood was one of disgust, for this dog disturbed my restful Sunday sleep. I swiftly pushed aside blanket, rose from the bed. Sleep still looming heavy in my eyes, I ran toward the door, in no doubt, to kick out that annoying dog.
I strike open the door, marched out. A lean unkempt dog was seated over few yards down in the corridor. Previous night’s monsoon downpour soaked him. As soon as he saw me, he beamed in a gracious smile like that of a timid guest. His tail wagging non-stop and producing slow shrieks, he marched briskly towards me and nudged against my legs. His ribs hit against my legs. I sensed, instinctively that he hadn’t had foods for a week or two. Good heavens! He was in intense hunger.
The fleeting rush of anger in me was quickly gone. I darted inside my kitchen to look for rice for my early morning guest. Yes, there was leftover rice in my cooker. I mixed it with cheese and emadatshi in a plate. Then I placed it in front of him. He gobbled furiously.
I sat next to him, quiet, watching him stuffing. And at the same time, I wondered how long he had been run-rounding the town, abandoned, hungry, and crying for foods. Do humans understand his hunger and pains? I understood, then, that this dog was not calling for misfortunes, but he was in such a hunger that he couldn’t help so he had to vent the great noise for foods.
He wagged his tail again and gazed deeply into my eyes, his smile beautiful. I sensed he wanted more foods. I had bread and cookies. I added them in his plate. He emptied the plate, but this time he jumped at me, climbing up on my lap and nudging his head and tail over my neck. He then magnificently bounced back, whined and barked in a decorative joy. He was doing all this as if to express his gratitude to me.
He found his master and a place called home. At last! He has his bed of my old gho next to the entrance door. And guess what? He stopped making noise and commotion. Ah, now he has grown huge, docile, friendly, intelligent and admirably handsome. Also, he has become as homely as his master. When my 13-year old niece visited my place last month, she gave him a name, Jigme.
To tell you honestly, I was a loner and melancholic person. I used to spend most of my day home, alone. My daily activities included reading, writing and watching TV besides office works. But after Jigme’s arrival, my life’s changed completely. I’m no more lonely and sad. I am happy, always loved and cared for.
Every evening, we go out way above Motithang. Long walk. I still have moments of sadness but Jigme can sense them. He comes to me, curls up on my lap and puts his head on my shoulder as if he is giving a hug to cheer me up.
Other times, when we’re out in the parks and roads, we romp and play. He crawls when I crawl, he sleeps when I sleep. He gives a jolly jump and furious run his ears pricked up and I lie flat on the ground laughing my lungs out. He darts off to comply with my every single command. All this have irrevocably bound us and make me happy.
Interesting thing is that Jigme even knows my office and most of my colleagues. At times, he gives me nasty shock. He shows up in front of my office door unannounced. Only after I buy him foods from the canteen, he returns home.
It’s been exactly four months since I met Jigme and now I’ve discovered that dogs are great consequence in a human’s life. They love you unconditionally, always seem to know when you need them most and protect you from harms. The power of a special bond, loyalty and everlasting love that my Jigme shared with me is way beyond any special person had brought in my life.
My mood was one of disgust, for this dog disturbed my restful Sunday sleep. I swiftly pushed aside blanket, rose from the bed. Sleep still looming heavy in my eyes, I ran toward the door, in no doubt, to kick out that annoying dog.
I strike open the door, marched out. A lean unkempt dog was seated over few yards down in the corridor. Previous night’s monsoon downpour soaked him. As soon as he saw me, he beamed in a gracious smile like that of a timid guest. His tail wagging non-stop and producing slow shrieks, he marched briskly towards me and nudged against my legs. His ribs hit against my legs. I sensed, instinctively that he hadn’t had foods for a week or two. Good heavens! He was in intense hunger.
The fleeting rush of anger in me was quickly gone. I darted inside my kitchen to look for rice for my early morning guest. Yes, there was leftover rice in my cooker. I mixed it with cheese and emadatshi in a plate. Then I placed it in front of him. He gobbled furiously.
I sat next to him, quiet, watching him stuffing. And at the same time, I wondered how long he had been run-rounding the town, abandoned, hungry, and crying for foods. Do humans understand his hunger and pains? I understood, then, that this dog was not calling for misfortunes, but he was in such a hunger that he couldn’t help so he had to vent the great noise for foods.
He wagged his tail again and gazed deeply into my eyes, his smile beautiful. I sensed he wanted more foods. I had bread and cookies. I added them in his plate. He emptied the plate, but this time he jumped at me, climbing up on my lap and nudging his head and tail over my neck. He then magnificently bounced back, whined and barked in a decorative joy. He was doing all this as if to express his gratitude to me.
He found his master and a place called home. At last! He has his bed of my old gho next to the entrance door. And guess what? He stopped making noise and commotion. Ah, now he has grown huge, docile, friendly, intelligent and admirably handsome. Also, he has become as homely as his master. When my 13-year old niece visited my place last month, she gave him a name, Jigme.
To tell you honestly, I was a loner and melancholic person. I used to spend most of my day home, alone. My daily activities included reading, writing and watching TV besides office works. But after Jigme’s arrival, my life’s changed completely. I’m no more lonely and sad. I am happy, always loved and cared for.
Every evening, we go out way above Motithang. Long walk. I still have moments of sadness but Jigme can sense them. He comes to me, curls up on my lap and puts his head on my shoulder as if he is giving a hug to cheer me up.
Other times, when we’re out in the parks and roads, we romp and play. He crawls when I crawl, he sleeps when I sleep. He gives a jolly jump and furious run his ears pricked up and I lie flat on the ground laughing my lungs out. He darts off to comply with my every single command. All this have irrevocably bound us and make me happy.
Interesting thing is that Jigme even knows my office and most of my colleagues. At times, he gives me nasty shock. He shows up in front of my office door unannounced. Only after I buy him foods from the canteen, he returns home.
It’s been exactly four months since I met Jigme and now I’ve discovered that dogs are great consequence in a human’s life. They love you unconditionally, always seem to know when you need them most and protect you from harms. The power of a special bond, loyalty and everlasting love that my Jigme shared with me is way beyond any special person had brought in my life.
