The Post Office Pups
There they were, a new edition to the year of 2011. Six gorgeous golden puppies, each one more healthy looking than the next. Some all gold, and some a chocolate gold with soft black muzzle markings. It was impossible to not pick them up and cuddle these small but hefty beings of innocence and trust. It was their first move. Where they came from I was never told and will never know. They were about six weeks old, and placed in a semi-safe semi-private location, the local Post Office. While this may not sound terribly private, or particularly safe, considering the logistics of the building, it had its advantages. One, it had a couple of enclosures in the outer entrance way, where they could curl up and hide, if need be, and two, it was enclosed, from cold and rain, and three, it was just public enough that they could be seen should some well wisher find them irrisistable and be moved to carry one away, and in the world of wishful thinking, take them and provide a home.
Fourth, it was fairly well known that I would sooner rather than later, take notice of them, and take care of them. Mama was new to the area as far as being an outside\street dog, and was most likely a female family pet, who now that she had become pregnant, was put out on her own to take care of herself and her pups. So far she had done a very good job, the puppies were brilliant in their good health and comfort.
The local postmaster turned out to be a very kindly man, who although would not activey acknowledge them, made no comments of complaints of their presence, and made no efforts to have them removed, So, for now they would be safe. The auto rickshaws park up in front of the Post Office entrance, and the drivers genrally had a good time counting puppies and watching their progress. And yes, it was an auto driver who eventually admitted to placing them there, although admitting no relationship of ownership to the mother dog. Still, it was an effort in a world of limited opportunities to provide care for these beings, even with the not unreasonable hope that someone else (me) would give them care.
So, they came, they played, they ate, and for a time they thrived. Mama could come and go, the local garbage dump was just across the street, and if the food I brought was not to her liking, there was always the opportunity to explore and scavange.
Another unexpected bonus to this location, was the semi-permanent addition of a wandering Baba who made the enclaved entrance to the PO his home as well. He stored his belongings in a corner, unrolled his bed bag in the evening, and slept there until morning, before opening hours. So, a Baba, bed and blankets, and six lovely puppies and one mama to keep each other all warm in the cold nights. Morning feedings were now not just for the pups, but for Baba as well, who let me know just how he liked his morning tea and biscuits. Why not? And oh yes, Baba likes his drink as well, so morning time often included several empty bottles of spirits scattered about, which I trust were for medicinal purposes in the cold of the night. Why not?
The not so good parts. The puppies were all girls, so no one would be taking them, no matter how adorable they were. The road the Post Office is on is busy, full on with trucks, autos and motorbikes. And the garbage dump with its full aroma of inviting delicacies was across this street. No matter how much food they would be given, and it was more than ample, the lure of expanded horizons was only a matter of time as they grew and became more mobile and adventurous.
It did not take long for the first accident. The largest, the heftiest, Bertha. The most beautiful and the most advanced was now lame, and frightened as I approached one afternoon. Instead of running out in front of her smaller sisters to greet me, she was cowering, in a corner shaking and in pain. With medical treatment and some days of rest, she seemed to improve; until one morning I came and she was gone. No one knew anything of her disappearance, and she was not seen again. Then there were five. Shortly after that there were four. This time the shop keepers saw it, instant contact with a passing truck, instant death. Yet they were moved, and touched, and with a trace of a tear in his eye the ususally stoic shopkeeper asked if I could not move them somewhere else. The local children who were part of the family of the shop keepers next door would regularly play with them, and enjoy their company, but they too wanted them moved. People were putting their hopes on their survival, and we all knew it was pretty unlikely.
Fourth, it was fairly well known that I would sooner rather than later, take notice of them, and take care of them. Mama was new to the area as far as being an outside\street dog, and was most likely a female family pet, who now that she had become pregnant, was put out on her own to take care of herself and her pups. So far she had done a very good job, the puppies were brilliant in their good health and comfort.
The local postmaster turned out to be a very kindly man, who although would not activey acknowledge them, made no comments of complaints of their presence, and made no efforts to have them removed, So, for now they would be safe. The auto rickshaws park up in front of the Post Office entrance, and the drivers genrally had a good time counting puppies and watching their progress. And yes, it was an auto driver who eventually admitted to placing them there, although admitting no relationship of ownership to the mother dog. Still, it was an effort in a world of limited opportunities to provide care for these beings, even with the not unreasonable hope that someone else (me) would give them care.
So, they came, they played, they ate, and for a time they thrived. Mama could come and go, the local garbage dump was just across the street, and if the food I brought was not to her liking, there was always the opportunity to explore and scavange.
Another unexpected bonus to this location, was the semi-permanent addition of a wandering Baba who made the enclaved entrance to the PO his home as well. He stored his belongings in a corner, unrolled his bed bag in the evening, and slept there until morning, before opening hours. So, a Baba, bed and blankets, and six lovely puppies and one mama to keep each other all warm in the cold nights. Morning feedings were now not just for the pups, but for Baba as well, who let me know just how he liked his morning tea and biscuits. Why not? And oh yes, Baba likes his drink as well, so morning time often included several empty bottles of spirits scattered about, which I trust were for medicinal purposes in the cold of the night. Why not?
The not so good parts. The puppies were all girls, so no one would be taking them, no matter how adorable they were. The road the Post Office is on is busy, full on with trucks, autos and motorbikes. And the garbage dump with its full aroma of inviting delicacies was across this street. No matter how much food they would be given, and it was more than ample, the lure of expanded horizons was only a matter of time as they grew and became more mobile and adventurous.
It did not take long for the first accident. The largest, the heftiest, Bertha. The most beautiful and the most advanced was now lame, and frightened as I approached one afternoon. Instead of running out in front of her smaller sisters to greet me, she was cowering, in a corner shaking and in pain. With medical treatment and some days of rest, she seemed to improve; until one morning I came and she was gone. No one knew anything of her disappearance, and she was not seen again. Then there were five. Shortly after that there were four. This time the shop keepers saw it, instant contact with a passing truck, instant death. Yet they were moved, and touched, and with a trace of a tear in his eye the ususally stoic shopkeeper asked if I could not move them somewhere else. The local children who were part of the family of the shop keepers next door would regularly play with them, and enjoy their company, but they too wanted them moved. People were putting their hopes on their survival, and we all knew it was pretty unlikely.
So, on the lookout for yet another hiding place. It had to have safety, access, and no other dogs who already claimed this as their territory. In the middle of the village stood a seemingly abandoned ashram, up the road a bit. Many people walked pass every day, all day, and dogs did go through, but it did not look like anyone lived there. The layout gave a pleasant surprise, as on the top floor was a huge open courtyard, fully enclosed, and secure. Very secure, once I put them in there. How would I get them out. Well, the obvious. I would have to scale the wall several times a day in and out. SO the puppies were moved. Mama could come in and out by utilizing a ramp I set up for her, and the puppies were enclosed. I would take them out to run in the garden in the morning and afternoon, and put them back in at evening time. It worked well for a while, it was just time consuming. The school children saw all this of course, and one morning there were two new additions, Kali and her daughter Kali, courtesy of the school children. They eventually left on their own, to where I do not know, but they were beautifuland gentle and sweet, and I wished them God's grace.
A change was brewing in the ashram setup ... suddenly I was finding the puppies all put out on the outside, and a security guard sleeping on the ground floor at lunch time. Hm, the word is out, squatters have moved in. They may be the four legged kind, but still, squatters. I kept my cool, and just waited him out each day, and when he left, the puppies would go back in, safely tucked away for the night, and in the mornings, I would find them all back out. They were growing, it was ok, they would have to learn their way on the street sooner rather than later anyway. So in a bit more time, the seemingly inevitable, two more disappeared. One was reportedly hit by a motor bike, and the other unknown. The two remaining now were clearly afraid to enter the ashram grounds, so it appeared they were now being forcibley, and aggressively removed. They relocated across the street, and did well for some time; and then there was one. A family has taken her in, but where and for how long, is hard to say.
The life of a street dog.
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