The Dog I Never Had

When I got a job, I was excited about a number of things. What topped my list was that I would get a dog. I have my own house now, so no one could stop me from getting a pet. With the salary of a journalist, I obviously could not buy a pet, so I decided to adopt one.

I was staying in Delhi then, and considering the number of animal rights NGOs around, it wasn't much difficult, finding an adoption centre. My first visit was quite depressing. A building full of abandoned dogs. Some suffering from serious physical ailments. Others very depressed and looking at you with longing eyes.

As the volunteer there was showing me around, I came across this huge Great Dane. Something in his eyes drew me towards him. As I patted him on the head, he put his head on my lap and licked my palm. He won’t let me get up. He had the advantage of the weight and the height and hugged me with all his strength. I had made my decision then. Bosco was coming home with me.

There were some complications regarding the adoption procedure, since I was staying alone, and the NGO was sceptical about Bosco staying all by himself for nearly 7-8 hours a day. But the dog’s instant liking towards me and his attachment with me, acted in our favour and they trusted me and let me have Bosco.

We were a happy couple. Bosco and I.  He was a funny dog. I had put a mattress for him, but he refused to sleep there. Every night, he would come over to my room, get on my mattress, push me out of it and sleep there. And if I tried to push him back, he would put a paw on me and sleep there as if cuddling me. He won’t eat unless he saw me eating. So we would have dinner together. He was highly protective of me, and won’t let even my friends come in to our apartment unless I told him that they are harmless people, and I loved them. I even had to hug my electrician to let him in.

I don’t know if Bosco picked it up from me, but he loved smoking. Surprised? Well, not really smoking, but he would eat up my cigarettes, if he found them. He would carefully eat the tobacco and throw the butt away. It was funny, but then there were chances of him spoiling his liver, so I couldn’t let him smoke. To save a pet, I lost a smoking partner.

He would chat with my friends too. If I would leave the chat window open, Bosco would slyly come up to my laptop and randomly press buttons with his paw. My friends knew it was bosco sending his greetings across.

 One major problem was leaving Bosco alone all day. He was an understanding dog, and would happily bid me goodbye when I left for office, but my neighbours told me, he would stand in the balcony all day, looking expectantly. Waiting for me to come back. He was lonely. And for those of you who know how dogs are, they feel lonelier than we humans do. Depression attacks them, sooner than it attacks humans. 

They are deeper than we human beings are and they feel much more strongly than we do. In six months’ time, I saw Bosco becoming quieter. He was not the same cheerful dog any more. He would sit in one corner of the house, with his head between his paws. He refused to go for his walks and then slowly stopped eating.

He started losing hair, and soon he was reduced to a thin mass. He refused to welcome my friends home. No one could come near him. He would snap and often bite. I was scared for him, and realised my mistake. I had wronged the innocent creature. I had brought him alive to deal with my loneliness and now, I had reduced him to a lonely being.

One day, as I was sitting across him, and looking at him, I could hear him talk. “Why did you bring me alive, when you had to leave me all alone?” I looked at him with tears in my eyes. His accusing eyes bore into me. “You are not lonely. You have friends. What about me? I was happy inside your head. I was happy being a figment of your imagination. Why did you have to talk about me to your friends? Why did you tell them stories about me? Now I feel real. Alive. But I have nothing to hold on to. Don’t do this, forget me. Wrap me up in your memories, like you used to do earlier. Don’t call me back.”

 I was left wondering. Is it true that he is just a figment of my imagination? But I can see him. How can it be possible? “You can see me, feel me talk to me only when you are alone. When you have nothing to do. When loneliness eats you up. Haven’t you figured that out yet?” came the reply. Yes he was right. I knew he was there, only when loneliness engulfed my heart.

I lifted my eyes to look at him, and he was gone. I ran to the kitchen to check for his bowl, even that was missing. His mattress was gone. I cried out his name. Desperately trying to convince myself that he was real. Bosco did answer to my call, but from inside my head: “you won’t find me in the house. I am there with you always, in your head. This is the only place where I can be alive. Where I am real. The sooner you accept that, the better for both of us. I am the dog you never had.”