“Animals are human beings, trapped in the body of that particular animal.” Every time I see an insect or dog, or any other animal for that matter, I hear those words of my mother. The woof of a dog, or a meow of a cat, is the animal’s way of expressing themselves, hoping that we, as their owners, will respond to them.
Throughout my childhood I have had a dog by my side, accompanying me in everything I did. Sindu, my dog, was Pomeranian, a small rusty-orange colored dog that would eat when I ate, sleep beside me on my bed as I slept, and lie on the carpet watching the TV screen intently as I watched my daily dose of cartoons. I got Sindu in the beginning of my 2008 winter vacation. Throughout the holiday I took care of him and a special bond formed between us, something that I never had before with any of my other dogs. Sindu was special.
If animals could talk, Sindu would probably say, “I am very lucky to have been given to Tsewang. She seems to know exactly when I am hungry, and constantly reminds the caretaker to give me water and a snack every now and then. I know she loves me very much, and I do reciprocate the feeling back. Tsewang always talks to me about how she is feeling, especially when she is upset about something; we sit under the dark night sky as she rubs my belly and tell me about the argument she had with her father. The only thing that I wish she wouldn’t do is carry me around from place to place. My stomach gets pressed a bit too much, and when I squirm to break-free, she holds on tighter. But everything she does shows that she cares for me.”
That’s what Sindu would say, in those two months we had together. However, like every good thing comes to an end, so did my vacation. I hated the fact that I had to leave Sindu behind. Who was going to take care of him the way I did? No one understood him like me! I gave him my last hug and the car zoomed out the gate. As I turned around, I saw Sindu for the last time, waiting patiently at the gate for my return that following evening. Obviously, I didn’t return, and days went by like that.
“Where is Tsewang? She has abandoned me!” Is probably what Sindu would say after I left for school. “Why would she do that? Does she not love me anymore, if so might as well go somewhere else, or maybe even go look for her to see if she is okay.”
After a week in school, I got a call from my mother, a call that I wish was a lie. “Sindu isn’t home anymore honey.” Is exactly what I remember my mother saying. Did he die? Was the first thought that crossed my mind, but remained quiet as my mother went on. “He didn’t eat for days after you left, and would just wait at the gate, hoping for your return. I have a very strong feeling that he went out in search for you.” I was extremely upset about what had happened, yet that bond I had with Sindu, seemed to have just gotten stronger.
I have no idea where Sindu is now; dog napped, in somebody else’s home, or even reincarnated as a human being. Whatever it may be, he will always remain in my memory as my Sindu. A dog can definitely be man’s best friend.
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