Offbeat (08): Puppy Love Needs Selectivity

By John B. Monteiro
Bellevision Media Network

“Gentlemen of the Jury: The one absolute, unselfish friend that man can have in this selfish world, the one that never deserts him, the one that never proves ungrateful or treacherous, is his dog.” – George Graham Vet, US Senator (1830-1901).

 

On August 2, 2012,  at 3 PM, as we foursome were playing post-siesta card game, Simple, the pregnant pup, suddenly delivered what looked like a dark, wet cricket ball under the table where we spread out our cards and where she routinely curls up while we play. She gently bit into the neck of the delivered baby and ran towards her cage in the next compound where our card partners have their residence. On the way she lost her grip on the baby which fell to the ground. I brought a dust scraper and tried to lift the baby into it to be taken to the mother. She rushed back to rescue her kid while everyone shouted warning saying the mother might attack me. Now she took over the job and ferried the new-born to the safety of her cage. That evening we counted three pups while next morning there were five.

 

Simple and her son, Blachie, having feed in my basement

Five new-born pups being breast-fed by Simple 

Simple is less than two years old and this is her second litter. During her first mating season, she could have benefited from two neibhourhood Dalmatians who, on  visit to my garden, tried to interact with her. But, their heights did not match and it was an opportunity for strays to impregnate her. Of the six pups, the owners retained one and named him Blakie. Apart from his black colour, sometimes he indulges in black deeds and carries away shoes left outside the door by visitors.
Second time around, Simple and the Dalmatians managed to lick their differing height problem and we were all keyed up to welcome a white spotted litter and now the black babies have turned out to be a great disappointment – unless the spots come on as the puppies grow.

 

I had been playing host to two female dogs, Moti, the mother, and Pinkie, her daughter, of my benign neigbhours, in my open basement study.  I am not sure if they came to keep me company thinking that I am lonely, with my books and papers, or they felt lonely while shut out by their super-senior-citizen owners. I was comfortable with their presence - but not with their constant and amorous male visitors who pee around the pillars to register their visit and claim for the females. Now that both Moti and Pinkie have died,   the male visitors have dried up.

 

Recently, as I was absorbed with my morning papers, I felt something approaching me and, looking up, I spied a puppy disheveled and distraught, foaming from the mouth and disoriented in its trot. My first reaction was to shoo it away only to find that it made no impact on it. I picked up a stick and tried  at first to goad it away and then actually to beat it. By this time the image of a rabid dog drove me to panic. Sure enough, the dog lost its balance and went into a convulsion. Even as I was thinking as to how to get rid of a dead rabid dog, it got on its feet and I chased it towards the gate and out into the public lane. I followed this up by warning the other residents of the lane about the rabid puppy.

 

The first thing I did was to dial Clifford D’Souza who runs Prem Chaaya, a star facility for stray dogs and cats, at Bajpe, for guidance. He being outstation, I drew a blank. Then I dialed the MCC helpline without getting any response. The local corporator, on contacting, offered to look into the matter. Finally, I don’t know the outcome of the episode. There is a post-script for this. On returning to station, Clifford dialed me and, when told of the episode, said that the symptom I described need not be of rabid dog. Dogs with untreated worms also exhibit such symptoms, including disorientation.

 

Notwithstanding this comforting enlightenment, I will not mislead my readers into carelessness when tempted to bring in chubby puppies which are found in public spaces, as did George Fernandes, with dangerous consequences. He found a chubby male puppy near Platinum Theatre, on what is now renamed as Mother Theresa (their spelling) Road and brought it home to May Lodge, my in-laws’ house on Coelho Street. By coincidence, a dog named Spotty, which had served his family loyally for over ten years, had died of old age. So, the young puppy was named Spotty. A great bond developed between the puppy and members of the household.

 

Then things began to happen. Pradeep, then a strapping young man of 24 years, an officer in a foreign shipping line (now Captain), came home on shore leave to spend Christmas with the family. He was crazy about dogs which he missed on the ship. So was the case with two of his friends who had also come on shore leave. May Lodge became their constant meeting point. The visitors also played with the puppy which, in return, did what appeared to be mock biting and scratching. Then, one day the puppy bit the hand that fed it – Pradeep’s dad, Lawrence. Two others in the household received similar “reward” from the puppy. They sensed that there was something wrong with the puppy’s behaviour. A vet was called in and he was about to be the next target of the puppy. The vet declared that the puppy was rabid and put it to sleep.

 

That was not the end of the story. The vet identified eight people who had marks to show the “favours” received from the puppy. All of them had to take a course of rabies injections costing Rs.1800 for each person. Then there was the trauma of uncertainty and missed work resumption deadlines. Overall, Spotty put eight persons on the spot directly and many more family members to extreme anxiety.

 

For, some of the eight bitten or scratched by the rabid puppy could have added to the statistics of death by rabies in India. The disease kills 30,000 annually in India. The figure could be much more because rabies is not a notifiable disease. Rabies is a deadly viral infection of the central nervous system. It is transmitted by bites or scratches by infected animals, mainly dogs.

 

A rabid dog can be recognised by some clues. These include a sudden change of behavior like drooling, unprovoked aggression, biting, aimless running, hydrophobia and difficulty in breathing. If a rabid dog bites a person, the rabies virus travels along the nerves to the central nervous system where it incubates for up to three months. At the end of the incubation period the virus multiplies rapidly, spreading to the brain and throughout the body. Finally, the virus overwhelms the brain and the central nervous system and the infected person ends up in a coma, paralysis and death. While this description sounds clinical, the progress of the disease to the point of death is marked by extremely painful suffering by the patient and trauma for those surrounding him.

 

Fortunately, Pradeep and others involved in the May Lodge incident took prompt treatment. The expensive treatment they took is less painful and more effective. It calls for three injections initially and three more if the rabies in the dog is confirmed by its death within ten days. Earlier, the treatment involved 14 injections on the stomach – which is very painful. Even now, in government hospitals, where the poor who cannot afford the high cost go, this procedure is administered.

 

I am not a spoilsport. The Bible says that a living dog is better than a dead lion and St. Bernard says “Who loves me will love my dog also”. In this context, Kipling cautions: “Brothers and sisters I warn you beware of giving your heart to a dog to tare”. In the dictionary “dog” comes between “dream” and “destiny”. The choice is ours.

 

 

Chew on this!

 

 

John B. Monteiro, journalist and author, is Editor of his website, www.welcometoreason.com (Interactive Cerebral Challenger) – with provision for instant response. Try responding!