BACK IN INDIA ...

Meanwhile, before my time in exile, here are a few of the street dogs in India, and their conditions and stories before I left ...







This is Mama, also called Grandma, as she is the mother and grandmother of many of the dogs of Beach Baba. Surprising all of us, including the local vet, Grandma had another litter of pups. We did not think it was possible, but then, there you are; Incredible India.

The pups were not born at a good time, they were born at the end of the monsoon, and we had seen the greatest rain since nearly 50 years. The beaches, the ghats, the roads were flooded. The pups and Mama had to moved up land several times. When they were returned to Babas cave on the Beach, the sand was dirty, and filled with mud and sand flies. The puppies had to endure very difficult conditions, and skin and parasite problems took their toll.

Still, a few survived, and looked like they would be ok. Baba is ever grateful, and calls these dogs his "children."







Here's a photo taken during a feed and clean. The pups were dewormed, treated for skin eruptions, fed, and happily sent on their way for a day of more play.

All looked good, as good as it can be, and they had a care-taker while I was away.
Soon, the sad news came. Mama/Grandma was gone. She had been ill for one day, with howling and hiding, and the next day she was dead. Three of the pups were also sick, with burns around their muzzles. As I write this, I don't know how many, if any have survived.

Baba was doing his best to care for them, and their loss would be greatly felt by him.

As I write these stories, I realize they are not all full of what we would call happiness. It's not that I go looking for the sad stories or sad endings, it's that this is the reality of the life of a street dog. It is short, it is unpredictable, and it is full of peril.

The few that experience moments of comfort, companionship, and love, are the rarities.

And perhaps we must each do our part to bring a bit of kindness into the world.

Nepali Detour

kATHMANDU?

Yes, Kathmandu. India visa regulations now want one to leave every six months ... until one gets a new visa, or something like that. Anyway, it's India, and things change.

While in Kathmandu, pining for India, I am getting a better sense of the street dogs here, and the conditions of big city life, vs small city life of a street dog.
Also, I am getting a better sense of big city life of a Nepali, vs small city life , of a Nepali. There are similarities.

This morning while taking an early stroll near Durbar square, I saw the usual cases of mange and neglect. One very sweet gray and black scraggly dog who sat quivering at a busy walking intersection with one paw raised and two runny eyes. He kept looking back and forth, seemingly questioning his surroundings and his sight. I concure.

I had no medicines with me, and had to move on, but will return the next day and hope I see him again. Walking on, half looking at the sweaters being sold on the streets I came upon a sight I couldn't ignore. A small orange colored puppy was silently curled up at a woman's feet, as she sat on her wicker stool overseeing her goods. She was not bothered by the dog, nor was she bothered by the young man who had taken her cigarette lighter, raised the flame, and set it under the dogs ear.

"What!" I stopped him, of course, and all he did was laugh. It was not a nervous laugh, just a laugh, that he had been caught. My yelling caused a stir and created a crowd, but his actions did not. To this there was indifference. Anyway, I tried my best to register some form of remorse from him, but I can't say there was any success in that. Nor any concern from the bystanders; just a few minutes of amusement for them of an irate foreigner, "losing it" over one small orange colored puppy.

What did puppy do through all this ... he slept, and finally awoke when it was all over, completely unaware of the drama going on around him, and over him.
Lucky.

A week or so earlier, I came upon another sad dog with a serious injury, but hopefully a happy ending. I was in Thamel, the tourist trap of Kathmandu. and saw a black dog with a half a head of meat and maggots weaving through the crowds. All the dog wanted to do was take a rest, and try to shake off his pain. He had a horrible wound on his head, it looked as through the skin had been ripped off his left side. The maggots had gotten hold and were feasting on the rotting flesh. I spotted him, lost him, and found him again when I heard a high pitched yelp as he had been kicked by a doorman at one of the hotels. He moved on, and was kicked again by the next shopkeeper. No one wanted him near their premises.

I'm not loud, and I'm not violent by nature, but I was right in the face of the last "kicker" yelling that the dog needs help, not abuse. No reaction. I kept on, and then there was a smirk, another laugh, another kick, and my voice was more raised. This brought out a local man who wanted to know what was going on. Turned out he was also looking for the dog since the day before, and wanted to help him. We joined forces and started to look for the dog, who had moved on from the last kick. Soon, a local vendor was trying to help find him. He knew the dog from the streets, and wanted to help.

We found him, I looped a nylon belt around him, and small miracles came on. Hallelujah. Several people showed up, each wanting to help, some of whom had been looking for him for several days. A fabulous English couple, Andrea and Daz, jumped in. The Nepali man, Jared, arranged for a taxi, and off we went, to KAT Center. Kathmandu Animal Treatment Center.


The taxi driver asked that we open all the windows. He really did smell that bad.


He's being treated, and I visit him and the other dogs there nearly every day.




I'm happy to be of some help while I am here, but desperately miss the ones back in India. The animal care giver staying in my home says the dogs in and around the house are fine, but I'm afraid many of the other reports while I am away are not so kind.