One of the pups I was worried about was the little brindled dog that hung around the taxi stand. He was young, a typical puppy, with puppy manners, and not accepted by the existing dog pack of that area. Shortly before I left for McLeod Ganj I saw a sadhu feeding a group of dogs in the area; I approached him, and he didn't want too much to do with me, until he realized I was appreciative of his treatment of the dogs. The little dog saw me and approached. I asked the sadhu to watch over him, and feed him while I was gone; he understood and I felt as confident as I could that the pup would have someone looking out for him. I also asked one of the westerners who walked down that path to keep an eye out for him. When I came back, I was happily surprised to see him looking well, and now a member of the pack. He was happy to see me, and I him.
One sad piece of news I did get, was that another pup, in the same area had been hit by a car, and died along the side of the road. He looked like "my" pup, and concern was that it was him. It wasn't, but a still smaller version I had never seen. Is it a trade-off? Had only one of those two had been destined to survive? Did it matter which of the two? Had I found the other pup first and started feeding him, would he have been the survivor? If he had been the focus of attention, would he have been the survivor? Is there some kind of balance that needs to be kept that's already pre-determined? I don't know. Did I have any choice in meeting the one dog and not the other? In the grand scheme of things, is it even important? But to that one dog, or individual, does it matter?
Have we all signed on to these particular roles of our lives, with the script already done, and we keep repeating scenes, until we "get it right." A kind of spiritual cinema, where we are the players. Some events seem too familiar, already acted out and now being revisited. Far too long and detailed for a simple deja vu. Revisited for what? Getting the part right, trying different endings? Who knows. Coincidences that are beyond imagination; this is what India has been offering me. Do I really just sit back and let it unfold?
I met another pup on the walk to Ram Juhla today, on my evening round of feeding a group of dogs by the Sivananda ashram. It's my first time seeing him, and maybe my last. This one is just too young to be on his own. He's no more than 10 weeks old, a shepherd mix, black and tan with half folded ears. His distinctive markings are a set of brindled stripes that curve along each side of his nose. His face is filled with a sweet determination and innocence as he walks along the road, coming out of one of the hidden trails on the hill-side. His tail half-curls, not quite in a complete cork-screw. I feed him, of course, and he eats it up. He looks to see if he'll get more, and as it's enough for one meal, I continue walking. Not surprisingly, he follows behind, and I expect he will stay behind, until he asks for more food, or turns off somewhere. But no, he walks along and then ahead of me, seemingly with purpose. Although tiny, this guy struts his stuff with his broad chest and strong gait. He walks like a "Champ."
I make it to the outer gates of Sivananda where one of the regulars can be found, lately in deep sleep, as he has not felt very well. He's suffering from mange, open wounds from flea-bite allergies, and internal parasites, at the least. He's miserable with his open sores and the fleas and flies that attack his skin. I've been treating him and feeding him, and he's improving. Today's been the first day that he recognized my step, and he sat up to greet me. In the first few days I've found him he's been so miserable, I've had to stir him from his rest, so I could feed and medicate him. One day when he would not get up and all I saw was a tightly curled body, I thought he might be dead. He seemed resigned to die, and was not very responsive. Today was a good sign, and a great improvement. It's these small victories that keep one going, hopeful.
I feed him, and the puppy "Champ" politely asks for more food. I give him a bit more, and both dogs eat side by side, no aggression or food possessiveness on either side. It would be nice if these two could buddy up, I can't help but think. The other dogs at the Sivananda gate pick on the white dog. But I can't stay too long, and I can't promise these dogs an attachment I can never fulfill, or promise of a future that I can't give them. Best I can do for now is feed, medicate them, and ask for a prayer for divine grace and comfort to look over them. Besides, I have other dogs to feed further down the road, and in the market.
I don't know if I'll ever see Champ again. He's too young and too little to be on his own. If none of the sadhus along the road takes a liking to him and gives him help and companionship, this dog won't have a chance. I'll only have the memory of this determined little dog walking along the road to Ram Juhla, between the hills, with the sun setting. The path shines golden this particular time of day, and Champ walks along, innocently alone, to meet his destiny. Confident and dazzling, unaware of what hardships lie ahead for him. Maybe that's all any of us get. Moments of glory, innocent of what may lie ahead. Choice; where is it for this little dog?
The next three days saw heavy downpours of rain, not at all good for such a tiny pup, out on his own; but for one golden moment, he was dazzling.
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