A lesson from Booch

by Iranganie Gunawardene

Booch was fairly old when my family got to know him when we moved into a new home on Laktharu Mawatha, Talangama North. His master had migrated to the USA, which enabled him to be on his own and happily roam all over the place as he wished.

A remarkable trait of Booch, though canine, was his geniality which made him be considered as a friend by many humans in the area.
In his peaceful manner, Booch visited almost all the houses down the lane. He would eat if any food was given to him and quietly walk away wagging his tail, showing his gratitude. However, when he visited our home, he was treated in a much better way as all the members of my family loved animals and treated them with the respect they deserve from a class of animals who are supposed to be superior to them.

At the initial stage, when Booch visited our home, he made friends with all at home. We welcomed him on his arrival and treated him with whatever food he would delight in having, as we all knew that he was only getting a bland diet at his own home.

As time went by, it was obvious that he considered ours to be his second home as he freely walked in and out of the house and took naps in between, in the dining hall.

As his companionship with us grew to a greater extent, we thought of adopting him and tried to somewhat own him, which he did not like. Sometimes, with difficulty, we used to give him a decent bath and keep him tied.

Shackling him was the last thing he liked, and it was apparent that like all of us, he too had a high value for freedom and to be on his own. With much reluctance we would let him walk away; feeling anxious that he might face disaster on his way back, as none of the motorists had any feelings or respect for life of animals roaming on the road.

Miraculously, he knew so well to keep away from dangers on the road, as he had a fine canine instinct in safe road usage. But for us, seeing him on the road, and his crossing from one side to the other, was simply a nightmare.

With baited breath, we would wait for him to cross the road, praying hard that nothing bad befallen on him while doing so. Though Booch did not belong to us, we had so much love as to have such feelings and concern for him.

As years went by, Booch started losing his good looks due to total neglect, but was miraculously in good health. His health started to deteriorate. He walked with difficulty, guided only by the scent and familiarity of the paths on which he had walked up and down all these years.

It was apparent that he has become blind, as he found it difficult to avoid objects in his way. This led to quite a few accidents, once breaking his hind limb that severely limited his movements.

When he understood that he could not walk about as usual he preferred to stay at my home. I arranged a shelter for him on the front pavement of my house, with a Venetian blind covered with black polythene to protect him from the sun and the rain. He was resting happily in this enclosure, having timely meals and medical care that sustained him in his senility.

However, after a couple of days, when I was returning home after work, I was alarmed by an unusual sight. Booch's home was at the corner of the lane that leads to my house. As there was no fence or well, ample view of the garden could be had from outside. I saw someone digging a pit in the garden, closer to its border towards the road.

As I sensed something sinister, I inquired from someone who was looking on at the digging whether something has gone wrong with any of the animals at home. What he told me gave me a shock, and I felt something collapsing within me.

I got to know from him that Booch has died. He was found dead at the back of the co-operative store that is on the corner of the lane opposite to Booch's home. His body had been removed from there, and even if it had been there,

I doubted I had the nerve of looking at him. I was intensely sad, and remembered with what difficulty I cared for him during the last few months when he had no one to look after him, especially when he was suffering and in agony with the open wounds.

In my, sadness, I told my neighbours of Booch's death, and they gave their observations on this genial creature which made me even sadder. Booch has visited almost all of them on that day, bumping against the objects that lay in his path in doing so, as was stone blind.

He had talked to them with a feeble bark, had even drunk some water from one of the houses. When I thought of what I heard from my neighbours, it became apparent that Booch had come on his last day to say good bye to all of them who were known to him so well.

I realised that even though he could not see any of them; he yet had the courtesy of making a visit to them on the last day in his life. With much grief and tears in my eyes, I thought how noble a stray dog could be when it comes to paying his gratitude, especially at the time of his death!