Aarya and Teddy

There are only two kinds of feelings I have for dogs – intense fear and intense dislike. The dislike being inversely proportional to size and fear directly proportional to the same. Hey, don’t get me wrong – we all have our dislikes. You hate spiders, I hate dogs. 

But this story is about a dog who changed my perspective about relationships and the participants in a relationship. This story is about my Teddy.

Teddy and I were no friends – by any means. I kept away from Teddy, and he kept barging into me, literally. Teddy was a big, brown German Shepherd and I – well, I hate to admit it – I was barely 5’2” and a very skinny girl. Meaning I was little equipped physically to handle a full grown, overly energetic dog whose main interest in life was to knock me down. 

I shouldn’t blame him. Teddy was the love interest of my Aunt and Uncle, whose home I frequented during my graduation days. My cousin sisters were also totally into him. He was the “son” of the family, loved and adored by all. It was only I who couldn’t stand him. 

Teddy was used to adoring eyes and sweet words, and according to my aunt, he just couldn’t stand my ignorance of him. He kept nudging me when we were out watering the lawn. He tried to lick my feet when I did my chores outside the kitchen, which opened into a backyard where he was tied up often. And there was one time when he bounded up to me, stood on his hind legs, forelegs on my shoulders, thus putting his full weight on me. I was caught entirely by surprise, and staggered backwards. I could have fallen, had not my cousin caught me in time. 

I never forgave him for that episode, and I resisted him even harder. I refused to have anything to do with him, even sharing my ice cream with him when he looked imploringly at me. 

Teddy loved everyone in the family, but there was no one he loved more than Aarya. In fact, it was just the same for the rest of us too. We all loved Aarya more than we loved each other. 

Aarya was the eight-year old daughter of our house maid. She had come to stay with us when she was quite young. Aarya had lost her father at a very early age and was too little to be separated from her mother. So my uncle had suggested that our maid bring her along when she came. 

From that moment, Aarya was family. It is very rare to find a child with whom an adult can enjoy company. But with Aarya, you could talk to her like she was your best friend, one of your own age. Maybe one of the right words to describe her would be cheerful. I have never seen her with a sulking face or an angry retort. There was always a certain quietness around her that soothed you when you are down. 

Aarya and Teddy were kindred souls from the day Teddy was brought home as a small furry ball of cuteness. Aarya fed him, washed him and played with him. 

Back then, Teddy was notorious for chewing our rubber slippers and it was Aarya’s job to ensure that he left the slippers alone. Well, she was also his partner in crime, because who else would clean up all evidence of his misdoings? 

One chewed the slipper and the other hid the chewed slipper in the waste pile.  One ran around the lawn and dug pits, the other followed closely behind to close the pits. One was never allowed indoors but would still come in all the same and the other would run behind, clearing paw prints and dusting dog fur from the floor. 

They had other routines as well. Aarya would never eat a piece of chocolate or ice cream without giving it to Teddy. He was not allowed to have coconut, but Aarya found ways to sneak it to him. 

Teddy would lie lazy and uninterested all day when Aarya went to school, but around the time she would be back, he would get up and start pacing around in his kennel. The joy of the two meeting after a long morning would be so boundless one would think they were long lost friends. 

Life went by in this mode, sweet and savoury in equal measures. I was closer to completing my graduation. Our all-girls cousins’ gang were each progressing in their respective realms – marriage, graduation, high school, first job…

Aarya also moved ahead in classes. Everybody had a word of praise for her, she was everyone’s friend and confidant. She went around with a smile on her face and cheer in her heart, and was, as ever, her mother’s support and happiness. 

Nature has a law. When things seem to go smoothly, there will come something that is major enough to change everything. It changes relationships, thought processes, opinions, interests and re-aligns us to new people and choices. 

That was what happened to us. Or what happened to Aarya. We had noticed a listlessness in her. Always buzzing around, she was suddenly very quiet and preferred to lie down always. She lost her appetite and constantly complained of headache.

As days passed, she showed no signs of improvement, and worried, we took her to a doctor. He did all the usual tests and asked us to come back when the reports were ready. A week went by – unusually quiet, but wrought with anticipation. Looking back, I remember a feeling of heaviness in the atmosphere. We are taught to face life with hope and faith, but days like those, you just knew something bad was waiting around the corner.  

It was one of those stuffy, humid mornings when my eldest cousin took Aarya and her mother to the hospital for the follow-up consultation. There, as gently as he could, he broke down the news to us. Aarya had a tumour in her optical nerve, and it had spread so fast that she had lost most of her sight in one eye. She needed to undergo the best of treatment immediately or else she would lose sight in the other eye as well. 

Our lives changed overnight. Everything was upheaved. Decisions were taken on the go. Calls were made, strings pulled so that she could get admitted in one of the top institutions in the country. Within a week, everything was packed and she was set to go. She had lost weight and there was an air of tiredness around her. She went to her school and bid goodbye to her friends and teachers. Even so, she had it in her to stay cheerful and happy. She stroked Teddy and promised him she would be back home soon. He stayed close to her side till she left the gate. In fact, all of us stood there, heartbroken, at the gate, watching her walk away. 

And that was the last time we saw her…

From the minute she walked out the gate, we kept the death vigil for her. Her days of medication were painful and our chubby cheeked beauty lost weight so fast that we couldn’t recognise her in the pictures she send home. Her thick dark hair was shaved off her head for surgery and she looked pale like a ghost. But even then, no matter her pain, u couldn’t find her without the smile on her face. She bore her pain cheerfully, was the constant source of hope to her mother and kept faith that her Almighty Father would not forsake her.

Most of the time, we could keep in touch with her only over the phone. Her previously twinkling voice had taken on a rasping quality and she struggled for breath while talking. But she made us all wonder, how a little girl of her age could be so calm and at peace with everything. Her courage astounded us no end. By December of that year, the lively girl we knew had faded away so much. 

Back at home, we were all planning a reunion on Christmas at our grandparents’ place. Beneath the knowledge that Aarya won’t be able to join us, everyone had hidden a very thin facade of hope that she will come bouncing back into our lives. But hope kept fading by the day. Prayers were heavily wrapped with tears. Her labour for the slightest breaths, evident over the phone, rented our hearts apart.

Two days before that Christmas, death took her away in its rotting hands. The sunshine had gone from our lives forever. 

The reunion at home was quiet. No one had words to speak, and the air was heavy with grief. But the most profound effect of Aarya’s death was on Teddy. When someone leaves us forever, it is tough to break the news to a loved one. But how do you have the talk with a dog? And even if we did, would he understand it?

But Aarya and Teddy were bonded by the soul, and he must have felt her loss even before we knew of it. Those of you who have a dog can understand what I mean when I say, Teddy mourned and mourned Aarya for days.

After that, we often found Teddy with a vacant look in his eye. We could not entice him to his ball games any more.  He was no longer interested in the hose spraying water in the lawn. I watched him while I did my chores. He laid there, empty-eyed – no more licking of the feet or gazing longingly at the coconut strips. 

Do dogs also lose the zest to live...? 

How do we tell them to move on…? 

I wish I knew, because if I had another chance, I would have told Teddy that it is alright. To smile again. To play with the water again. To chew the slippers again. And so much more…

----

We had to finally give Teddy away, in the hope that a new house and new friends would cheer him up. My cousins moved on with life and the pursuit of their desires. As it happens to all, with time, we eventually moved away to distant places for different reasons. 

I went on to complete my graduation and post-graduation. I still keep away from dogs, just as vehemently as I did then. Aarya’s mother still works with my aunt. 

We don’t speak much about Aarya now. But she is always thought of. In fact, none of us can return home without having memories of Aarya. 

And Teddy.