Friday, August 29, 2014

Journey with My Dog

I saw this coming. I knew one day it will happen that you will be ready to move on, and I will be left behind. I didn't know when and how it would happen, I didn't know how old you would be, I didn't know if it it'd be upon my shoulders to make that decision. I also didn't know how hard it would be for me, Amrita, and the rest of the family. 

Sikhi speaks of moving on, of letting go, of not getting attached, and I wish I had that in me, but the reality is, you are never really ready. It took me several months of preparing myself mentally to be this close to letting you go. I know time heals all, and I am sure you are in a better place already... but you are my first. And firsts are always the hardest and leave the most impression.

So as I cope with your passing, I also want to apologize. I didn't know what to expect out of our relationship. Just like all first relationship, my expectations were too high, my contributions too low. I thought all I had to do was to get you, and then we'd work things out from that point on. I thought my love was enough. We connected, and we shared, but I also feel guilty for not letting you live to your full potential. I feel like I couldn't/didn't train you properly. It wasn't because of lack of trying, but because I didn't know how. And it stunted what you and I could have done together - besides the beautiful memories I have of you, I wish there was more. Somewhere along the journey, life got in the way. Too busy working, too busy with events in life, too busy with whatever - and I lost my bearings. There was a period of time when I did not pay attention to you as much as I could have. I am sorry.



Every time I saw you, you had the same excitement in your eyes. You came and sat next to me, no matter where I was; You sat outside my bathroom as I showered, you would get so excited to see me that you'd shoot out of the front door to greet me, but since you couldn't contain your excitement, so you'd run around and do laps around the backyard. You slept at the foot of my bed till the last day, and you gave me so much joy. Your love was pure - unconditional - limitless - and your affection was warm, and caring. I think it is safe to say that even though I owned you, you owned my heart.


I still remember the day you entered my life - July 3, 2002. Amrita called me and told me about the surprise - I rushed to the airport to pick you up, took you to CT to have you meet with Amrita, and then took you home. You were so scared - after all, you had flown in from Africa. I bathed you, gave you a tour of the house, fed you and gave you your first chew toy (desi style). You fell asleep in my arms... and I fell asleep with you.


We spent many years together - you saw me go through all the stages of my life, and above all, you knew who I would end up with (even before even I knew it). You brought me and my wife together - you played a bigger role than you could ever know in why her and I stayed together. You practically rejected anyone else I brought home, except her. 

You stood guard, majestic as always, whether it was me sitting in the backyard drinking chah, or while my kids played, or while I slept in the basement. I knew you were always there, always ready to protect me and my family. I knew nothing could get past you, and that I could sleep in peace. You knew who was important to me, and went to extreme lengths to protect them. You also knew what I enjoyed, and always either participated in it, or patiently waited for me to be done. You woke up with me, no matter how early or late I slept, and you didn't go to bed until I did. You sat outside Babaji's room, listening to hymns and meditation, enjoying it peacefully and waiting patiently. You LOVED eating parshad - and were caught several times trying to steal it, not only from the table, but also from our hands. 

We celebrated so many events together - Amrita and my birthdays, your birthdays, mom and dad's birthdays, anniversaries, weddings and kids' birthdays. You were such an important member of the family that you even got Sagan when Amrita and I got married, and you were the first one in the family to know that we were having a baby. You accepted and protected my kids the same way you did me, and no matter what my kids did to you, you, being the older and wiser one in the family, never said anything. I remember Ajaivir trying to poke your eye out one day, and all you did was to nudge him away and change the spot where you were sitting. 

You fulfilled one of my oldest desires - for as long as I can remember, I had always wanted a dog. And not just any dog - a big dog. I just didn't know much about the breeds, about the types, so when I someone else in the family with a Rhodesian, I researched further, and my heart was set. Still I didn't know where to get a Rhodesian, and it was still a bit of a dream, until you came along. That dream became a reality when you entered my life. 


In you, I saw a reflection of me. Deeply loving, fiercely protective, loyal to the end, and unconditional and unassuming. From you I learned many life lessons, and I learned about my own self. For many years you were my constant companion, and knew just how to help me get through life. We would sit and without having the need to talk, you gave a sense of comfort. I hope I did the same for you.  

When you got old, barely able to stand and take care of yourself, I knew it would be a matter of a few weeks before I had to make the ultimate decision - probably the hardest decision I have had to make in my life thus far. I wish I could tell you how much I love you, how much you have meant to me, and how you impacted my life in a positive way. I just hope that I was able to do the same for you - that I was able to provide for you, and able to love you the way you loved me. 


Amrita and I drove you on the fateful day, August 25, at 6:30 PM, to the vet, after having done ardaas, and reading Keertan Sohila, asking for your soul to be sent back to this world in human form, so like the rest of us, your soul also has an opportunity to ask for mukti (salvation). I kept your old tired face in my lap for one last time, caressed your wrinkled forehead, and gave you one last hug. We walked together, through the sunset, you turned and looked at the world one last time, and then we stepped into the cold room. I came out with your leash, your collar, and a broken heart. My mind knew it was the right thing, but my heart was screaming. It has taken me several days to even finish this post, and it will take me several weeks if not months to get back to normal.

I will reminisce about our good times and I will remember our adventures; 

I wish you well my friend, and i wish your soul all the good I can offer, and I hope that in this cosmic journey, we meet again. Until then...