Cathartic Musings: COPING WITH THE LOSS OF A PET

Georgio

12.03.2009 - 23.01.2020

I wasn't willing to use the word "Pet" in the title. Georgio wasn't a pet. He was my brother, my confidante, my best friend. It was my 15th birthday and I was adamant about getting a dog. My family wasn't too keen on that idea. My Mom had never kept a pet so she was stubbornly averse to having one. I was stubborn too. My uncle and aunt took me someplace. Where, I have no recollection, but I had three puppies to choose from. A Golden Labrador, a Lhasa Apso and a Pug. It didn't take too long. I picked up Georgio, the Golden Lab and took him home. My Uncle and Aunt had told me that if my family wouldn't relent, they'll adopt him.

A month passed. My mom who had initially opposed the idea of Georgio around, citing Class 10 board exams, took on the responsibility of catering to every single need of his. She kept a tab of all the vaccinations he was to receive, buying gorgeous accessories, coats and beds for him and ensuring he took his walks as an absolute hunk, well combed and showered. The royal way in which he sat and posed was a spectacle.

Georgio quickly made his place. He divided his day ensuring that he spent a substantial amount of time with every single person. Wake up with my dad at around 6:00 AM and wait till he got back after exercising, sit with my grandma and then accompany her to the garden outside, shadow mom around the house till she left and get his daily quota of biscuits from every single person running errands in the house. But he was different with me. He didn't ask me for anything. He commanded it. After he turned two, if I was in the house, he would refuse to go for a walk with any of the workers. He'd control himself, never passing his feces inside the house premises, but would refuse to leave till I accompanied him. At the age of 18, I left for college and two years later, my brother left for his under-graduation. We'd try to solicit Georgio's reactions through FaceTime though we made recurrent trips back home. But Georgio needed his siblings around. Mom would call and say that he wasn't his chirpy self in our absence. He was trained by my grandma to bark hysterically when the bell rang or as soon as anyone would say "Shoo". He recognized the horn of every single car of ours. You could have us fooled but not him. He was intelligent beyond measure. His antics differed with every person. He knew not to obstruct my grandma's way or jump on her. He would do that to my brother and I, all the time. He knew that dad could not be disturbed till after dinner. Once dad would be done with his meals , he'd walk up to him every single day and put his front paw on his lap beckoning him to tummy rub or pat him. He only asked for love. His cheek to cheek smile emerged not at the sight of his mutton biscuits but when you called his name out, took him for a walk, hugged him, called him a good boy or just pat him on his head.

My paternal aunt (Bua) has had pets all her life. She taught Georgio to "Hi5", "shake hands" and sit with both his paws up. Her inseparable poodle of 13 years devoted his entire life to her. And she did the same for him in his last few years. I narrate this because despite this unseen of, unheard of bond that we witnessed with them, she always said that Georgio was the most intelligent dog she had ever seen. Her attachment to dogs would be well-demonstrated by the fact that she lost consciousness when her Pomenarian passed away in an accident when she was a teenager. So perhaps it's easier now to imagine how special Georgio was. The boy only gave. Unconditionally, selflessly.

I went away to the States for an entire year in 2017. My brother was working with a consulting firm then. We'd again hear that Georgio would just lie in some corner of the house with barely any activity. That year, I craved the companionship of George. My brother and I would drag his bed either to my room or his. Just his presence (and loud snoring sometimes coupled with extremely pungent farts) would suffice. I was sitting for the New York State Bar Exam which involved, quite literally, solitary confinement and long hours of isolation. Perhaps, with my puppy around (I called Georgio a puppy till the end. I always thought that this entire 'average life span of a dog' theory was psychological. In my head, I had already created the record of George being the longest living canine.) I would have been better. He'd hear all my sob stories, my sermons and my karaoke with utter amusement. He was my ideal audience.

I returned in October 2018. My walks with Georgio resumed. I kept him on a strict diet knowing that labradors were susceptible to muscle weaknesses if they were overweight. I monitored his food and snubbed anyone for feeding him junk. (In hindsight, I wish I would have just let him devour whatever he wanted. He would have been a chubby puppy. It also did not stall any of my family members from giving in to his puppy-dog eyes and his drools every time anyone would be eating anything. He had an uncanny ability to sense when my grandma was going for her monthly religious kitties and he'd patiently wait for her to come back since one of the 'prasad' ladoos would inevitably be set aside for him. The Boy knew everything!)

But it was short-lived. In December 2019, his lymph nodes swell. We took him to a Vet who conducted various tests and told us that this could potentially be life threatening but asked to wait for his reports. His reports came two days later and they were all fine. We were told it was a manageable infection. Three days of continuous medication controlled his swelling. Two weeks later we could still feel his swollen nodes but we were told that they would take time to heal.

On 22.01.2020, I got home from work later than I usually do and was told that Georgio had thrown up repeatedly and wasn't consuming anything. His tail wagged a little when I got home, which was very unusual, since he'd come charging at me every day before and after work. I asked my brother to lift him and get him to my room. He slept in my room that night, but his breathing didn't seem normal. He woke up multiple times to drink water but would go back to sleep every time. At 7:00 AM, he somehow mustered the courage to walk downstairs and beckoned my mom to take him to the doctor. Mom, accompanied with my brother rushed him to the nearest doctor. He received two injections, a pain killer and an antibiotic was prescribed. They got him back home. I came downstairs, to leave for an urgent office filing but was appalled to see Georgio's state. He was breathing from his mouth. Not the way they do after coming back from a walk, but his mouth would open and he would gasp for air. Every fleeting second his condition was getting worse. With the aid of Ranjeet, who's been with us for years now, we got him into the car and sped to the Vet.

Georgio, who could stay two days without passing his feces only to guilt-trip me into taking him for a walk, for the first time in his life, seconds before he was to breathe his last, urinated on Ranjeet while being taken inside the hospital. Ranjeet shrieked saying "Didi, hurry, he's in a terrible state!" We rushed inside and the Doctor, who had seen Georgio through everything, screamed saying that he was very serious. A team of 7-8 doctors surrounded George and did something. A bunch of things. All I remember is seeing an oxygen mask around his mouth. Seconds later, they all took a step back.

I wasn't prepared for this. No one was. We had no warning signs and Georgio displayed no symptoms until that night. 21st night, we had gone for a walk and he was his usual self: Barking at other dogs, sniffing the strewn-around feces, showing me which route he wished to take. My brother called me to ask what was happening. I was still in that room. I couldn't even look at George. I whispered... "Georgi's dead". He screamed saying "What are you saying?" and I disconnected. I left the room with our driver and Ranjeet still around George and ran. I was inconsolable.

15 minutes later when I got back, my brother and mom were in the room, inconsolable. Dad, who can never express his emotions was speechless. He hugged me, which isn't very frequent and said "He went without suffering. He's in a better place now." We took him to our under-construction house and buried him in the backyard. Most of our memories with him were in that house. Despite his half-shut eyes and numb body, we all checked in our individual capacities if it was true. Dad at one point said "He's moving!" My brother didn't leave him till he was lowered into the ground and my mom held onto the coat he was last wearing. I planted a shrub the next day there, which shall grow full blooms of yellow serrated petals. My Grandma has a better idea though. We shall plant a chico tree in his memory at that spot.

Georgio was a gift. Not just literally but metaphorically too. Losing George is perhaps one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. He was 30 kgs of pure happiness. In his 10+ years, he redefined the meaning of selflessness for all of us. The boy just gave! We'd all look forward to getting back home knowing that a happy puppy would come charging at us with his tail hysterically wagging. It's strange what life makes you do but the last walk I took with him was perhaps the longest walk we had ever taken, on a route we both had never treaded on. We spotted four peacocks. Not a usual sight. I would have been in court the morning he passed away, but somehow I was asked to head to office that day. Our last drive was an erratic trip to 24*7. I don't know if it was, as they say, "his time to go" or if I failed in getting him the right treatment or he was too sensitive to bear that kind of pain, but he left too soon.

I wish we had longer with you George. You touched so many lives and created innumerable memories. It's haunting to sit in the house knowing I'll never see you again. I wish you'd asked for more, allowed us to do more. You enriched our lives for more than a decade. Like dad said, I hope you're in a better place now puppy....

Always & Forever,