Crime & Punishment

It was a cold winter morning and I had been sleeping on a woollen rug. I had not been keeping well for quite some time and the doctor had said my ailment was beyond cure. The medicines had made me drowsy, and over past few months, I had become irritable. The old woman who took care of me all my life saw that I had moved away from the rug below and had shifted to the cold floor. She quietly came from behind making sure my slumber was not disturbed, bent down and tried shifting me back onto the rug, just the way a mother would do for her baby. A failing body that was anyway undergoing unbearable pain and compounded to it was my basic wild instinct that it must be someone bad trying to sneak in from behind. Without opening my eyes and checking with my senses, in a fit of extreme irritation, I just turned my head, bared my fangs grrrrr….and snapped……

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh…..my eyes fell on the old woman as she wailed….she was bleeding profusely as I saw her lower lip had come off and was lying on the floor…..O God, what have I done? Quietly I bent down and slipped below the cot lying in the room as I heard her cry.

What have I done? Bitten the woman who was more than a mother to me. What have I done to the woman who brought me up for the last 10 years since I came from a kennel in Mussourie. I was just a couple of months when I came into this home. Nicknamed Ike, after the illustrious US General and President Eisenhower, I was the son of Argus who was a legend in the canine world. With a proud parentage I was a handsome Doberman who was destined for even greater heights. Won many a laurels in the competitions organized by the Kennel Club of Kolkata, I was a real champ in my heydays. I was never chained in the house and would roam around free. I was lucky to come into a house with such huge lawns all around which allowed me space to run and enjoy freedom. In all these years it was this mother in a white saree who would take care of every meal right from early morning till I went to sleep. If it was any medicine to be given, it was she who never missed doing it at the right time. From shampooing my coat to clipping my nails, she never missed anything.

I too loved her very much. Whenever she would go out, even for a little while, I would start chewing her rubber slippers or play around the house with her saree. Tore so many of her sarees in what appeared to others was my playfulness but in actual fact was my fear of losing her...just couldn’t live a moment without her by my side. And when she returned, I would jump in joy, licking her and shaking my little tail till she pushed me away. It was a strange relationship we had, for although my official master was her son, but for me, my total loyalty, my complete love was just for her alone. She was my universe, my master…she was everything to me, she meant everything to me. She was a mother to me.

And what had I done today…what a shame! I had given her such pain…bitten her so bad that she looked so sad and pale? How could I have done such a thing? I just quietly lay there without moving an inch as I saw the servant calling up her son. The son came in after an hour or so. All this while I just put my head between my front paws and lay still with eyes full of remorse. My master quickly took the old lady somewhere, must have been a hospital.

All day long I just stayed unmoved below the cot. I touched not a drop of water, not a morsel of food did I taste the whole day. So many people had warned the woman that she should not trust a Doberman and stay alone. They said no matter how domesticated this breed gets, its wild and aggressive instinct never dies. They told her of tales of how some others of my breed had turned ferocious and harmed their masters. They would always tell her that I needed to be kept under leash and lock. But she never listened to anyone. She trusted me and I loved her…and yet how badly had I let her down. Why did I not look to see who it was behind me?

That night the son returned from the hospital. I felt like walking up and asking him, “how is my mother…will she get well soon…what do the doctors say about her recovery….when will she come home…” So many questions kept coming to my mind but did not have the bodily strength nor the courage to walk out of my shameful den. My master just kept sitting there speechless and motionless. He never even gave me a glance. Hungry, sick and sad, my eyes closed as I went into a deep slumber.

I slept and slept and slept, never to wake up again. The old lady returned home but needed a long time to recover. I was laid to rest in the garden behind the house where a deep pit was dug. My master and his mother sobbed as my body was carried and placed inside the pit. They put mud over my body till I was fully covered... it was a brown coat over my shiny black coat today. They planted a sapling near the place and watered it daily. In some time lovely flowers bloomed. The old lady would not let anyone pluck the flowers from my shrub. I think she had forgiven me like all mothers do….but I still can’t forgive myself for having harmed such a soul. I don’t know if there is a heaven and hell for us dogs, no matter what our pedigree is, but surely if there is a place below hell, it must be for ungrateful souls like me.

Then one day a  marble tombstone was placed at the very place I had been buried.

Here lies Ike,

Here lies one of us.

Ivan Von Feinberg

1989-1999

It seems today my mother and her family have truly forgiven me and now I can truly RIP.

SS