the story of komban is a memorable one for me. read up on how we met here.
are you all caught up? so komban fast became by favourite. he’s a big scrawny kid who’s forever ready for belly rubs, unlike moradan who favors ear scratches.
life was good until komban hurt himself. he was limping and i could see he was also in compensated pain and tension from having his hind leg lifted up. he wouldnt let me treat it.
so i called the blue cross. after some major drama by komban, they took him to their shelter for treatment. i was told they would return him back to our street once his treatment and ABC was complete.
2 days later, in severe anxiety about the boy, i went over to the blue cross and asked to meet komban. when i saw him with tears in my eyes, he refused to even look at me. allowed me to pet him but never looked me in the eye. broke my heart beyond comprehension.
i kept lamenting about he probably disliked me and possibly even hated me because i sent him off to blue cross for treatment. it weighed heavily on mind. whether i should have let him be? but could i see him suffer and possibly have him lose the use of a limb rather than have him whole but dislike me?
i was torn for days until i saw the blue cross van pull up to set komban free. he shot off like an errant bullet and hid. like fascinating but possibly mythological folklore i would hear from neighbours, house help akkas about how they saw my komban in the neighbouring streets.
he never ventured back here. absolutely desolate and bereft, i came to terms with it in my own time.
there is a car/large vehicle rental service at the end of my street. this translates to several cars that line the egdes of the streets and equal number of drivers in crisp white. per my latest update, komban was spotted several times amongst the men in white who happily feed a lot of strays during their never ending tea and biscuit sessions. i was happy to hear he was well and fed but a tiny part of me still yearned to see him again.
months pass and on an otherwise ordinary day, as i was driving through the said street, i heard a bark. dont paint me conceited but of the 7 streeties iam family with, i can only recognise komban’s deer-like cough/bark and my own Z’s all-i-see-is-mine bark. so without hesitation i knew it was komban.
i stopped to look for him when i heard him bark again. per the rules of doggy-land, if your face is hidden, no one can see you. so hiding his face behind a car, his whole body otherwise visible, i heard him bark again.
i parked, got down and called out “komba kutti”. his tail wagged in response, just as fast my overjoyed heart. i waited. we dont rush love. after a few more minutes of calling him out, he came to me.
he. came. to. me.
with overwhelming joy and keen dog-mom’s inspecting eyes, i pet him while fervently ensuring he was well and without wounds. he was perfect. a few more minutes and he ran back to play with pulli. (meaning dot in tamil. named him so cuz he has a smidge of brown on an otherwise white coat.)
i watched him a little while more, soaked in the happiness and went home.
returned to the same spot for several consecutive days but couldnt spot him.
but i was happy. content that he was alive, well and still loved me. what i assumed to be dislike was just mere caution on his part. i dont blame him. these perfect beauties see a lot that my Z is fortunate to never know. so i understand where he is coming from and am eternally grateful and accepting of the rare sightings and love i receive.
cut to a year later and covid19 is upon. i was walking through the same street again, chuckling with delight that the neighbourhood aunties couldnt stop me for useless small talk as the mask i wore gave me the privacy i craved.
i felt someone shove me. bracing for a fight, i turned.