When you run to welcome me home, sometimes I feel I need no other love in this world.
I had tweeted this about Lali.
She is one of the four dogs that we raised. Born in November 2002, the litter came under our care, when their mother, whom I called Jhingy, suddenly died. They were a month old then. Lali is the most loyal, her territory remains our house and she guards it against, mostly, the postman and the sweeper.
It is Indiraben, who became a part of our family when I was about six months of age, who lovingly and possessively tends to all our pets. On the night of September 10, Indiraben came to my father, very worried, and said she had not seen Lali for the entire day. Unusual, scary. They tried to look around all over the society, but did not find her.
Early next morning, Lali's siblings Dholu and Sheeba literally dragged Indiraben to a locked plot in the society. There we found Lali: weak, frightened. She's old now and couldn't jump the high walls. Baba got keys to the lock from the society secretary, but it was rusted. The guards then broke the lock. Lali came out to hug Indiraben and Baba.
In recent emails, Baba says how Lali is still in a shock. She has given up barking with gusto as she used to. She only wimps and cries, eats less and seldom leaves our compound. Baba thinks she climbed up a car and jumped into the plot, falling on her face. She has some injuries near the jaw. She runs at the sight of medicine and Baba and Indiraben are too old for the hide-and-seek routine I dealt with. I hope she gets better soon. My family depends on these kids more than we admit or realize. Home would not be home without them...