She was terrified. Beaten. Bullied. A skinny little pup in the middle of Edaianchavadi, surviving only by the gracious generosity of Lorraine, who visited daily to feed her. Lorraine was the only person trusted.
Gopal was a mangy, wormy, injured puppy and grew into a fine dog. Why would we want to take home anything else?
So suddenly, with the help of Lorraine and a pet van, we had a new dog on the outskirts of Lumiere. The trouble is, as soon as Lorraine left, the dog found herself a thorned fortress under a fallen cashew tree and refused to leave. As much as we wanted her, she didn’t quiet trust us.
It took some coaxing—and another visit from Lorraine—but the dog made it to the house, where we fed and loved her for an hour or so. In the quiet of the forest, while our backs were turned, she disappeared.
Another dog gone. Another failed attempt.
But the next night… I wondered out to get a bottle of water. Gopal greeted me at the door, as usual. But there were two beady dog eyes glowing from under the table… the lady dog returned! My heart went soft; how nice to see her.
She was fed again, played with Gopal, but by morning, had once again disappeared.
The day grew hotter. We weeded and weeded the garden. And as I squatted tugging at plants, I was suddenly attacked by warm kisses and golden-brown fur. Gopal was busy; She was back.
And since then she’s stayed. The two dogs run around like crazed puppies, playing and panting and loving life. The world is so much better when you share it. Two-by-two they herd cows (kind of), bark at intruders (sometimes), and otherwise fulfil the duties of farm dogs (like looking super cute).
Now she only needs a name… Cleo(patra)? Rani? Saedi?
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