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Blacky

No, this is not a story about me, but about a dog that my family adopted when I was a kid running around half naked on the house lawn with a broken stick. Adopted because he was the neighbour's dog that the neighbour fed but did not shelter, for Blacky never really liked to stay in one place. He would wander around the streets and come back in time for the customary breakfast and dinner.

But for a dog of no special pedigree, a fair stature and physique and an extremely loud personality, Blacky was a very protective dog, a quality that convinced my uncle that he could be tamed. When I first saw him, it was on my way back from school, chained to the pillar near the front porch. It was quite a joyous moment, my first pet. Though, I never really dared to stand around when he was unleashed. He was jumpy and I was timid. I would pat him when he laid down bored or when he put his head through the window. I still remember the time he caught four rats scampering around the lawn. He bit at their head, lifted them and shook them lifeless.


But there was a problem.


You see, Blacky was never used to being in one place. At night, families in the neighbourhood would unleash their dogs to scare away thieves. But Blacky, he would not stay within the house compound. He would run to the gate and jump across the low wall and never be seen again until the next morning or a few days later when he would come whimpering through the gate. We tried everything to stop him, but to say the least, he always had his way.


But the problem did not end there. Once my mother went shopping for groceries and after parking her car, she noticed Blacky, who had ran away a few days earlier, running around the car, barking away anyone who came near the car. Blacky knew whose car it was and his protective nature never abandoned him. The passerbys started to get annoyed and my mother started to get worried. One bite and we would have to answer.


And so the decision was made to take away Blacky, similarly as he was brought into my life. Unlike in Singapore, there was no SPCA in India. One just brought the dog to some far away place and let him go. I remember being in that car with my uncle, my maid and Blacky. Blacky sat at the back while we drove him to some far off place only my uncle knew. Once there, my maid opened the door and Blacky leapt out into the darkness, never to be seen again.


Why write this story now? I saw a photo of a friend of mine with a dog and suddenly thought about Blacky. And I remembered that night when we took him away, he had sat behind, strangely quiet, kneeling with head bowed down. Throughout the whole journey, there was not even a whimper or a whine. He stayed still as if he was listening intently to the music played in the car.


It was as if he knew what was coming.

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