My Orange Buddy

Poosh had never been this crazy. He used to instantly start ahead of me and catch his favourite Frisbee. Ever since I had been twelve and ever since he was a puppy!

Poosh does not like strangers, and it’s an understatement if I say that he makes friends easily. But once he makes friends, they are the forever type of friends. I don’t know his favourite colour but I always assumed it would be orange because as a pup, he only attacked orange stuff – Orange slippers, orange doormats, orange Frisbees and so on.. So maybe it was orange, or just his teething phase, I don’t know. But according to the conclusion I drew, I got him an orange collar which suited perfectly with his silky short golden hair. No, I wasn’t going accessory shopping, but I made sure he had orange eating bowls, and an orange leash, although he took an offense if a leash was used when he was enjoying his freedom.

Somehow Poosh was never the pedigree eating, tail wagging, smiling dogs (look carefully if you haven’t seen dogs smile yet!) Poosh was the adventure minded, dal-chawal-roti eating, happy-go-lucky chap, who just happened to be in the right company!

He ran to catch the frisby, almost stopping in mid-air so as to pose for a typical ‘Kodak moment’. He loved children, he would want to surprise them by wagging and going near them, but eventually ended up scaring them. He would never even budge if a child pulled the hair out of his tail.

It wasn’t long ago Poosh was diagnosed with stomach infection. He no longer relished his dal and chawal, he no longer ran as fast as the wind, he no longer looked up at me to pester me for a long walk. All he did was sat in a corner on his orange rug. He didn’t even complain if we put the leash on him. His smile disappeared. The doctor said it was bad, I did not believe it. He said there was no scope for operation, and if they tried there would be a 50-50 chance of survival. I cried the whole night that day. My lovely little pal was suffering and I could not help him. I woke up at 1 am and sat till the morning caressing his fragile body. He didn’t cry in pain or make any noise, all he did was put his chin on my leg and his paw in my hand.

I sit beside the place he was buried, and the ground still feels warm there. I always take orange flowers to him, knowing he would like them. And I look in the park, when a dog catches a Frisbee, but not in the grand manner as Poosh did!