I peered through the dark and my sight alighted on a skinny dog that was busy excavating lumps of earth beneath the debris that came out from the pine leaves beside the soccer field laid once as floor, during convocation held at Sherubtse College.
I paused for a moment, pondering at the dog’s act of building its home, solitarily in the murk of the moment. A thought ran through my psyche that the dog was prudent, while his friends were busy lost in the daily mischievous deeds, that dog was unto a meaningful task, building shelter just aside the college soccer field.
Since then, I found the dog always in its home or at its vicinity.
When students were on the ground playing soccer, the dog simply popped its head out of its burrow and watched the game enthusiastically.
I admired the dog and as I passed its domicile, I always dropped pieces of biscuits for the dog. I felt that some dogs could be much better in their disposition than are some of us, whose mind is stuffed with malice and evil thoughts. The dog always sought shelter in the burrow and whenever nasty boys kicked him, he ran whining and got in to its burrow licking and nursing its hurt parts, whether in agony, mirth or excitement, the dog associated itself with the hole he deemed beyond his playmates.
My interests towards the dog grew to that extent that I began to feel the dog as mine like any other kith and kin of mine. At leisure I used to visit the dog, sometimes I could see him coming to the hole with lumps of food grasped in its mouth, or at times playing with alter egos of its own kind. When the weather marred and gave way to rains, the dog simply kept itself snug and cozy in his room.
It so happened one day, at the act of procuring food from the drain of the college mess, one of the cooks infuriated by the sight, struck the dog with a vegetable knife, the bleeding dog promptly rushed to its safety towards his home, the tint of blood that oozed through the wounded body accentuated the path the dog treaded. The dog ran mourning as if complaining what wrong it had done to the cook, he was just taking food dumped by men and not snatching the shares of others’ right from the plates.
I berated the cook for his malicious act and followed the dog for rescue. I found the dog outside its hole, the blood rushed out of his body in spurts, I stood helpless aside, with eyes filled with tears upon the sight. I tied a thin cloth over its injured spot and could somehow curb the spontaneous flow of blood, the dog seemed to gaze at me with gratitude. We, people interfere in the lives of the animal and devastate the serine state the animals enjoy, we personalize them and display our superiority over the innocent beings, while laws are framed against human injustice, and they are ignored.
God sent us here to live in harmony with all the animals, but much to His surprise we tend to dominate them. That night I came to see if the dog was okay, I retuned being complacent having seen the safety of the dog I adored.
Next morning as I went to pay my humble visit to the wounded friend of mine, I lost my conscience for a moment and started crying to find the dog given way to ghost, he was dead in that same home where he sought shelter, where his every glee was affiliated, see the dog died without complaining, none mourned for the dog save for me. I finally buried the dog in its own home once built by that assiduous dog and prayed few lines for him. Since then, save for the memories of the dog, nothing remained.