Bosky, the one who belonged to the Boss, is born again

Anjna Rawat Pratap

09-March-2011

Vol 0 | Issue 1

Each time I am away from my computer, I love to come back and see my beloved and much missed dog, Bosky, looking at me. The screen saver has been there for more than 4 years now. I have changed two machines since then but Bosky has continued to keep a look out for me every time I have been away. My wonderful, faithful and adorable dog! A golden Labrador by birth, it came to our family in Bangalore. We had recently lost a dog but were emotionally unable to get another one to fill the void.

I remember it was to be a surprise for my parents. My sister quietly placed the 2- month-old puppy on my parents' bed and we waited. The little creature found its way up to my sleeping father's chest and just lay down there. Acceptance was immediate! And its name a logical conclusion: Bosky, the one who belongs to the Boss. Once some thieves managed to break into our house in our absence but could take away nothing as unknown to them, Bosky was home. It gave them the fight of his life. The neighbours were alerted by its loud barking. They later said it was the screams from our house they reacted to.

Many years passed. I got married. Then my sister. And then one day my father also retired from the Army. An era ended with his hanging up his uniform. And we had to get used to seeing our father in civilian clothes.

All this while our dog faithfully accompanied my parents on their various postings around the country. It had a charmed life. But there came a black day when it grew old, arthritic, nearly blind and died despite all the medicines and loving care. They buried it on a windswept hill in Himachal, where my father served his last tenure in the Army. The sunniest and the most peaceful spot possible.

My daughter was just two at the time. We were no longer in India and decided to spare the child the news of its passing away. But we did visit the spot later and took some photographs. The forlorn whitewashed slab with its name and duration of life spent on earth.

She concluded on her own that our dog was sleeping in its house and that the slab was the door. Some years went by and the story of the door lingered.

Last year our family got another dog. Yes, it had to be a golden Labrador. So it was inevitable that one day my daughter would ask me, "Mummy, why is there such a heavy door on Bosky's house?"

I took a deep breath and told her that Bosky was dead. She sobbed with tears rolling down thick and fast, but I had a feeling that in her innocent way she was ultimately letting go and no longer holding on to the delusion that there was this door.

To ease her sobs I told her that it had been born again as the new dog of the family. That it had come back to us because we loved it so much, each one of us. She quietened down, asked me how it was possible, then clapped her hands and decided to be happy.

Surprisingly this version made me happy too. I know it is merely a pacifier, a story... but somewhere, deep inside, the heart wishes it to be true. So that love can go on and on because as someone wrote, "Only Love is real."