The Delinquent

Soumya tells us about a much-abused puppy that they had adopted. He could not be disciplined. A soulful account, exclusively for Different Truths.

He was orphaned soon after birth and abandoned at a construction site, left to forage for scraps at an age when infants aren’t even weaned.

He had nearly starved to death when rescued by a kind-hearted and eccentric good Samaritan and taken to a shelter, the sole survivor among his siblings.

There he was fed intravenously as he was too weak to survive.

He didn’t understand and thought that this was another form of torture, perhaps like the construction workers did for their own amusement and to relieve their own frustration, while they kept him alive throwing scraps at him, for which he had to fight with his siblings to the amusement of the workers.

This part is purely a figment of my own imagination and unlikely to be true. For poor people in India are far more generous and kinder than the privileged entitled class. What happened is that the Samaritans provided Cerelac for the pups, something that the workers couldn’t offer their own kids, and I’m not sure how much would have reached the pups.

In the shelter too the older inmates didn’t tolerate him, and he had to scrap way outside his weight class to survive among the hardboiled crowd.

For his own safety he was kept isolated in a tiny cell, a cage really, and under a great deal of medication, as he had picked up most of the infections in the book.

As he became a little better a foster home was found for him. But his ill luck continued, and his foster parents returned him to the shelter soon as unsuitable for adoption, again barely alive.

In the meanwhile, a retired couple suffering from empty nest syndrome was told about the shelter and had come to see the inmates. They had never adopted an orphan before and were rather apprehensive. But the lady had stipulated that you cannot see the orphans and reject them, as if they were merchandise on display.

All the other inmates were too old, and our hero was the only baby there.

The couple were looking for a girl child as they had daughters and always had female pedigreed pets at home.

It also didn’t help that he was no sweet-tempered angelic baby with melting eyes and polite endearing manners but a scrappy aggressive little runt with a suspicious and belligerent look about him. His expression wasn’t pleading but challenging the visitors to pick him.

The lady had grave misgivings about having a young boisterous undisciplined male at home, and the gentleman was worried about the sores on his body and the and the bald patches in his hair.

But he launched himself at the gentleman, climbed up on his shoulder and clutched on fiercely.

No one had the heart to leave him behind, and once again he had a new address, the fourth in his brief life.

The old couple had a spacious two-story house with airy verandas, wide driveway, and adequate gardens with trees.

After the confines of his cage, this was heaven. He went completely feral, living like a wildling in the garden, coming indoors only for meals and to sleep.

The lady kept a very neat house, everything spotlessly clean, and artfully arranged in its appointed place.

This became history because the little ruffian tracked mud all over the house, turned the knick-knacks topsy turvy, broke everything breakable within reach, and generally created mayhem.

His toys were scattered everywhere, and he was soon bored with them, preferring the packaging they came in and empty cartons and carry bags.

He refused to sleep in the cot waiting for him, on the bedding provided, but insisted on sleeping in some dark corner.

He hated bathing and grooming, and when cleaned up despite vociferous protests, returned to his dirty scruffy self within moments.

He demanded attention, affection and petting as a right, and his play was mostly fighting and racing, which completely exhausted the elderly couple.

He was completely allergic to discipline of any kind.

Plenty of good food, exercise, and medical attention soon made him a healthy strapping young fellow, extremely energetic and boisterous.

His hunger seemed insatiable, perhaps the memory of the earlier periods of near starvation, and he gobbled his food to prevent anyone from snatching it maybe, although there was no one to do so. This did not help his fragile health, but later his body adjusted to this.

The other major risk to his life was his belligerence, as he was desperate to scrap with the tough street gangs in the area and challenging huge brutes four times his size. He survived probably because they were too surprised to react fast, by when his much suffering foster parents would whisk him away.

The other peculiar habits probably came from insecurities, as he hated to be alone in a room at any time of day or night and would nap clutching on to either of his foster parents. His biggest grouse was that he wasn’t allowed in bed with the adoptive parents and protested by retreating into some nook carrying some items of their clothing or bedding to clutch and hiding their slippers.

This major disruption completely shattered the peaceful calm of the well-earned retired life that the couple was looking forward to, after decades in a high pressure and hectic working life.

This fellow reminded them of the superstar of their youth, the angry young man, who didn’t pick up fenke hue paisa.

Once, scolded for one of his many misdeeds, he sulked by refusing to come indoors, all night. Usually, to protest any scolding, he would run away with a cushion, newspaper or slippers or something.

But this attitude can also be endearing, and the indomitable spirit of the underdog with attitude has its own charm.

Today, the rascal is the boss of the household and the couple have decided that sacrificing the peace and quiet and the spotless orderliness of their home and lives are a worthy sacrifice for the company of their new demanding and disorderly child.

Photos by the author