In my younger days I repaired refrigerators and air conditioners as a way to earn a living. As I was doing well I became visible as a well-to-do man. Although I was proud of my achievement, I became the targets of charity seekers, who would descend on my shop with their motorbikes' fuel tank covers open, expecting me to do the needful (give them money to fill up). I never failed to oblige, though. Back then, unlike now, I could afford to be a bit generous.
However, among those who "noticed" my said visibility, was a Malay man, the only Malay man while the rest were mostly Chinese, and a few Indians.
This (Malay) man unlike other donation seekers came in a car (no wonder he didn't ask for anything) and with a dog; a bit grown puppy, to ask me to adopt.
I was taken aback to see a Malay man wearing a songkok handling a dog without any qualm.
In Malaysia, Malay Muslims are not supposed to touch or rear dogs, though some do.
The man commented that he had been watching me for some time and thought I looked like I could take care of dog. He went on to assure me all the necessary vaccinations had been carried out -- all I had to do was give him food and water he said.
Again I looked at the dog; I told him if I agreed to take him in it was definitely not because the dog was cute!
I thought of telling him if he wanted to give me a dog there were lots of puppies people abandoned at his pound. He said he "met" me when I went to fix some refrigerators at his Government Veterinary Clinic in River Road.
When I asked him why he didn't bring me a nice dog instead of an ugly one like that, he said he somehow pitied this boy (turning to look at the now ever-ready-to-wag-his-tail puppy) and just wanted to help him. So did I! So did I!
After his master left, the boy which I later named Wolf, suddenly ran in and ran out as if he had been there all his life. He literally kept tracks of my every move; his eyes full of love and gratitude were only for me. I became the world for him, as he for me.
We were inseparable except when I went out to repair fridges.
Since Wolf came into my life I couldn't be happier. If I turned him down that day I know I would never know the love that he showered on me so unreservedly during his short time with me; and I would never forgive myself.
When he grew up he looked more like a wolf; hence the name. But alas, he started having skin disease called maize. I took him to many vets but to no avail. I spared no effort or money to help him as I loved him so much.
In fact, I loved so much that it showed; I betrayed my myself to some unscrupulous doctors (I was visible to them as a fool who loved his pet too much). Some tried to cash in on my dog's misery and my vulnerable state of mind. One doctor -- with whom I had left my dog earlier in the day -- I can recall vividly, telephoned me after midnight that very night to discuss about my dog's condition.
It was amazing how people craved money; they would do anything and anyhow to get it, by hook or crook, if you will
When I asked could we do this tomorrow as I was coming to visit my dog first thing in the morning? The vet insisted I hear him out. He asked if I loved my dog? Isn't that obvious? Without waiting for my answer the fellow blurted out: "If you love your dog (and don't want him to die) you should be prepared to fork out 4 to 5,000 dollars for an operation.
He asked if my dog had been knocked down by car; I said no. He said something about the canine's heart (organ) had shifted from the front to the back of his body. "How come?" was my only response.
I was of course skeptical with the whole conversation, but I kept my feeling to myself. I couldn't wait to go and fetch back my dog.
Before hanging up, I asked the good doctor "if, say, I have that kind of money and am prepared to pay, could he guarantee my dog would recover after the surgery," he was evasive, at first, kept saying all surgeries come with risks.
I was about to blurt out: "So, even if I want to spend the four or five thousands the dog would still may die?" But I checked myself, instead I said: "Okay, Doc, I will come to see you tomorrow. Thank you for your concern."
When at his office the next day, I announced I wanted to collect my dog, and asked for a bill. I was charged three hundreds and fifty dollars. I was told $270 was for treatment and the rest for bedding. So leaving my dog in his cage cost $80 per night. On second thought, I, too, would like to be a vet; so that I could rake in easy money like him. What a lucrative job being an animal doctor.
I paid up and then went to see the man who was in charge of the cages and who also happened to be my customer. I recalled having charged him very reasonable for fixing his refrigerator at his home once. I knew I had made a friend, then.
Selvam was his name. He told me what the doctor told me was a lie after I told him the Doctor said he took good care of my dog. if, say, my dog did not want to eat he would force-feed the animal. Selvam told me if there was to be any force-feeding he should know as he was the only one to do it.
When Selvam led (took) the dog to the doctor to hand over to me in his presence, the doctor exclaimed: "Hey, David, somehow your dog's condition was on the mend already. I want you to leave him here for a few days more to make sure he is okay." 'Yeah, why not leave him here for a month, so that you could make $2,400!' I wanted to say, but I didn't. Instead, I insisted I wanted to take my boy home. I almost blurted out: 'At first, you said unless I pay for his surgery the dog would die; then you pronounced my dog had recovered, and yet you wanted to keep here for another few days -- to make sure he's dead?!'
From what I observed as a lay person, the dog was in so bad shape that he could hardly stand (for long), he was going to die. And yet he had the gall to say my dog had recovered. So the money spent was wasted, gone down the drain.
I was right; another doctor laughed when told about what the previous doctor said, saying "this dog could not be saved no matter what amount you're prepared to spend."
So he told me to leave it there and go home; they would send him for incineration and asked me to pay only $10 instead of $50 as it was government clinic.
I went home as told, but..not so fast! Upon realizing Wolf could be out of my life forever, I was overcome with grief. I was beside myself with love and grief for my boy. I rushed back to the clinic to collect him, never mind the $10 I just paid. I pleaded with the doctor I would care for him until he died. I wanted to postpone the inevitable as long as possible. But the government clinic doctor said the dog had died soon after I left and had already been sent away. I begged the doctor to go and recheck if the carcass was still there I wanted to take a photograph of his face for memorial sake, but it was futile, too late. I went home with a void in my heart.Then I tried to find some photographs of other dogs which resemble him. I couldn't find one. I was grasping at straws. I was frantic; I was beside myself --I would give anything to bring back my beloved dog.
I turned to the almighty to grant me one wish. God, I never loved anything so much. I cried for days.
I regretted not taking Wolf home to die and then bury him in my back garden; so that we could continue to be together. But my sister told me to pull myself together and force myself to forget Wolf and move on. If I were to bury him in my garden, she reasoned, then it's possible that I would keep crying until I join Wolf she said.
My sister, who worked as my clerk-cum- cashier in my shop, advised me to find another dog to fill the void in my aching heart. I one day found a puppy wandering along Perak Road, about a mile from where I operated my fridge business, and took her home.
Soon my shop was full of adorable bubbly puppies who climbed all over me! They helped cure my pain like magic. By then pining for Wolf had been replaced by my respect and love for him.
He was my first pet; he had planted in me a seed of love and respect for animals, especially dogs and cats, and will never forget his love for me. He had made a difference for me.
Because of him, I now take care of about 70 cats at this house, not to mention my years of caring for hundreds of dogs and cats. throughout Georgetown, up to Hillside, Tanjong Bungah.
No comments:
Post a Comment