Unconditional

It was a bright April morning. I still remember it so vividly, as if it was just the other day. I was thirteen years younger than I am now. (I realize that sounds more satiating than revealing my actual age!) It was a perfect day, as perfect as it could be. The golden rays of the sun felt pleasantly warm on my face, leaves of the trees were a bright green, the flowers of different hues were in full bloom, a gentle cool breeze blowing, bringing along with it the whiff of the blossoms, and the birds playfully chirping, perched on the tall trees. With a song on my lips, and a spring in my step, I went on about my usual morning stroll. “Ah! Bliss!” I thought. Something felt special about that morning. I couldn’t really decipher if it was the pleasant spring weather, the cheerful song playing in my head, or the scrumptious English breakfast, my mother’s specialty, waiting for me when I get home.

The narrow path at the back of my house was flanked by large trees on either side. There was a stream on its right and perfectly aligned houses on the left. The bubbling stream was slow-flowing, languid in pace, and lax by nature. My stroll along the path was always delightful as I learned to appreciate one thing at a time about the beautiful nature that I was surrounded by. As I walked along, I heard a faint whimpering sound coming from behind one of the huge trees that lined the path, on the side of the flowing stream. As the sound appeared closer, I caught sight of a scrawny little thing, almost motionless. At first, it appeared like a roll of cotton, albeit dirty from all the muck and grime. However, as I was almost there, I realized it was a dog, a puppy, fawn in color, barely a few months old. It had its head curled inside its furry body. I looked around to see if there was anyone who it belonged to. There was no one in sight. Did his mother abandon it? Did its owner leave it alone to die? How could anyone be so heartless?

My happiness knew no bounds as I thought to myself that I finally got to have a pet. The excitement somehow let the dreadful vision of how my mother would flip out at this very thought of mine, slip by. For an instant, I forgot her angry face, literally pulling her hair apart and yelling at me at the very mention of ‘pet’. My mother and I have had this conversation (mostly one way) several times where it usually ended up in her winning the case and me ending up sulking. My mother knew exactly what to say to get her way and I dared not utter another word. It usually was always, “There is no room for a pet in our tiny house” or “The dog would poop all over the place” or “Who would take care of it when you are in school?” She disliked dogs, any pet, for that matter, and I never found a way to convince her that a pet dog was all I needed. She always had the final word.

The dog lay on the ground oblivious to the dirt that tangled its fawn-colored fur into a matted mess. It moved only when necessary. Its eyes were sunken and dull. I crouched down right next to it and offered my hand. Instead of sniffing me, it just tilted its head away and closed its eyes in the most submissive gesture it could muster. Gently I ran my hand down its back and slowly pushed my fingers to the skin below. He was so thin it was like dragging my fingers over a xylophone; even without the music it was quite the saddest song I had ever heard. This baby was starving to death. Slowly I moved my hands underneath the little puppy and lifted it with absurd ease; a bag of potatoes would probably weigh more. The dog buried its head in my old cotton shirt and, despite the consequences I knew I would have to face, I made my way home.

“Ma, look what I found”, I announced excitedly as I walked in through the front door. I had a faint hope that her motherly instincts might just be rejuvenated at the sight of this little homeless pup. My mother was there laying out the table with breakfast she had just finished making. She literally froze when she saw me and my only hope was squashed beyond recognition. As she gathered her wits, she screamed at me, “What on earth is that ugly, dirty thing? And, why would you bring it home?” ”It’s a little Labrador puppy, Ma. I think his owner abandoned him”. “And, so?” she immediately retorted. “It was almost as if he was calling out for help and I couldn’t have left him there alone. I will call him Shadow”, I replied. My mother just threw a fit and stormed off. Following that eventful morning, my mother and I did not speak with each other for several days.

Shadow was so adorable that I thought even a bitter person like my mother would come around. As much as I tried to convince my mother that Shadow was the best thing to have happened to us, he gave her as many reasons to hate him. Barely a week since he came home, he peed on my mother’s fine, intricate Persian rug laid out on the living room floor. As if that was not bad enough, Shadow chewed on books, newspapers, slippers and almost anything he laid his little teeth on. There was this one time when he ran off with my undergarments and hid them and proudly brought them out when my mother was entertaining her friends at home, as if it was his prized possession to be exhibited. As anticipated, she gave me an ultimatum and said, “This thing is a nuisance. I want it out of the house immediately”. I tried to assure her that this was just a phase and all normal puppies went through this and that he will soon grow out of it, but all in vain. Shadow was always “it” or “that thing” for her.

Dogs have an innate sense of understanding human emotion (don’t ask me how, just another reason why they are so amazing) and that means they’ll always be there when you need them, whether that’s to lick your tears of sadness, or dance with you in joy. And Shadow was much more than that. His unconditional love, unsinkable spirit, and unabashed smiles made everything worthwhile. Shadow turned our house into a home. I looked forward to coming back home to his ‘hellos’ with those tail wags and eyes that spoke. He was 'happiness' in fur, an exuberance that needed to sprint, and more than that, he was like a burst of eternal sunshine in my otherwise drab life. I fed him, bathed him, walked him, and played with him. I tucked Shadow into his bed every night, which was in my room behind the door. That was his space and he felt quite proprietorial about it as if it was his house. Though the dog beds, over the years, grew in size as did Shadow, he did not grow out of the habit of sleeping amidst his favorite toys (he earned himself a toy every time he proved to be a good boy), like he did when he was a baby. I often talked to him, shared some of my darkest secrets, he saw me cry through the hardest times, and laugh through the happy ones, and stuck by me through it all, through thick and thin, and through the good times and the bad. He was much more than my companion.

It was almost impossible for anyone to not like Shadow. Of course, my mother was the weirdest exception! He was the friendliest dog; always making sure his presence is felt. He was very popular with the young and old alike, in my neighborhood as well as with anybody who visited home, and he basked in the glory of their attention. Sometimes, he was too presumptuous and happily warmed up to strangers as well. That was obviously a bit worrying as he was the most gullible thing to lure who would fall for something as insignificant as a button! With a broad head and a broad sense of humor, my Labrador, Shadow was pure amusement and joy. He said so much with those twinkling eyes, his irises the color of chocolate.

My mother was a fairly kind and affectionate person, otherwise. However, when it concerned Shadow, I thought she was more ruthless than whoever had abandoned him. She never petted him, never acknowledged his presence, and always kicked up a stink against him. She often grumbled at him saying, “You fat blob! All you do is eat and sleep. I am fed up with seeing you around”. Yet, Shadow was always gentle around her and often longed for her acceptance. I comprehended that he always craved for her love. I wished she did too. Notwithstanding the hostility and antipathy my mother always felt toward Shadow, his selfish and ungrudging nature never allowed him to reciprocate in the same way. He was always playful around her, extremely alert, and was quite needy as far as getting attention from her was concerned. Often times, I would catch him sitting upright while my mother would be cooking, almost as he was guarding her. Sadly, I never stopped hearing the end of what a pain Shadow was.

Just like that, six years passed by. Shadow was a full-grown handsome dog. I had someone to come home to, who loved me unconditionally no matter what. My attachment with him grew and we were inseparable, while my mother’s hatred and resentment towards him did not diminish in any way. Sometimes, I thought she needed professional help or some amount of counseling. I never let my mother attend to Shadow, lest she used that as an excuse to throw him out of the house. That day was no different. I gave Shadow his breakfast, kept his drinking water ready, and even took him out for a walk before I left for school. It was customary for Shadow to see me off right up to our front door as if to wave me goodbye before I left home. He always had a way of looking at me through the wired mesh door where he tilted his head one way and then the other. I would reach the front gate and blow him a kiss and barely would I walk two steps from the gate when he would immediately turn his back to me and waddle his way to the kitchen to take his favorite ‘guard’ position as though my mother was his responsibility. Needless to say, my mother overlooked that and sadly enough, never acknowledged him. Perhaps, the horrible ordeal we went through that day was a blessing in disguise.

On that eventful afternoon when I walked back home from school, I found Shadow impatiently waiting for me right at the junction of the main road and the lane that led to our house, looking frantic and panic-struck. It was very unusual; Shadow hardly ever stepped out of the home this way. I sensed something was not right. “Shadow, what’s the matter, my boy?” I asked him. He turned his head around and made several glances back towards the direction of my house and signaled at me as if I had to rush home. I started to run as fast as I could with Shadow leading the way. As I walked in through the open front door of my home, Uncle Samir greeted me, offered me a glass of water, and sat me down. It all seemed very off the wall and did not look like good news to me. Radha and Samir Baruah were our neighbors and good friends of my mother’s. I asked him where my mother was and he replied, “Your mother felt a little unwell, and she collapsed and fell down. However, the doctors assured me that she is out of danger. So, please don’t worry. She is fine now”. “What??” I asked freaking out. Uncle Samir went on, “Radha is with her now. We managed to take her to the hospital. Thanks to Shadow, we made it here on time.” Dazed and perplexed, I was numb after what I had just heard.

Uncle Samir was kind enough to drive me to the Nazareth hospital which was not too far away from home. As I entered the room where my mother was, I saw her lying on the narrow iron bed surrounded by tubes and pipes all over her with multiple monitors beeping. It was definitely not the most pleasant sight to see. However, I was happy to see that she was at least lucid and had her eyes open. She faintly smiled at me as soon as she saw me. Aunty Radha immediately got up from the lone chair in the room and rushed to give me a hug. Her embraces were always warm and genuine and I knew that the Baruahs always meant well for us. My mother gestured at me to sit next to her and when I did, she held my hand and in a very feeble and faint voice said, “Shadow saved my life today”. Her eyes glimmered as tears rolled down her pale face and she sobbed uncontrollably. Amidst all the pipes and tubes, I hugged my mother and said, “Thank God, you are okay, Ma”. “What happened?” I looked at Aunty Radha and asked inquisitively. “It seems your mother was in the kitchen when she felt faint and fell down on the floor. Shadow being around was a godsend and deserves all the credit”, Aunty Radha said. My mother barged into the conversation and said, “The last thing I remember is Shadow barking continuously in panic as if he was calling out for help. He ran frantically all over the house and kept licking my face in an attempt to keep me awake and alert. I must have passed out completely after that. I can’t believe he saved my life despite knowing I have always been nasty with him”. “What happened after that?” I impatiently asked Aunty Radha. She began to speak and said, “When he realized your mother was motionless, he must have run out through your back gate and jumped over the fence into our back yard. He kept barking incessantly until I heard him and came out. He clutched my skirt in between his teeth and literally dragged me to your house, and there I saw your mother was lying unconscious on the floor. I immediately called ambulance services and here we are”. “Well, I am glad she is fine now”, I said, and deep down inside I thanked God that he made the impossible, possible.

A couple of days later, following several medical tests, it was determined that my mother needed a pacemaker. Post the surgery, she recuperated well. When she finally got home from the hospital, as she walked into the house, Shadow was a little reluctant and hesitant at first to go near her as he always kept his distance. He stood near the kitchen door and wagged his tail with full gusto, his tongue flopped out as if he was grinning from ear to ear. The moment my mother saw him, she looked at him, stretched out both her hands, and Shadow enthusiastically ran over to her, as though he was running for Olympic gold. She bent down, embraced him wholeheartedly, petted and caressed him, as her tears wet his soft, warm fur.

It took about six years and one near-death experience for my mother to finally fathom that all Shadow needed was a bit of love from her. Had it not been for him, she probably wouldn’t even be alive. Shadow, who was always frowned upon by my mother turned out to be her savior. My mother always hated Shadow; yet he loved her back unconditionally. My mother is a lot calmer and kinder now and Shadow taught her that. They are the best of friends now and he has become an integral part of my mother’s life as much as he is in mine. She gets him a toy every time she goes out and he expectedly waits for it to add it to his prized collection (well, thankfully, it’s toys now and not my undergarments anymore).

Thirteen years have passed by since I brought him home. Shadow is still active though much slower in his movement. He developed acute arthritis in his hip joints which makes sitting down and getting up a little difficult. He also has an enlarged heart and is on medication for blood pressure. Thankfully, his weight is under control. He loves going for his walks and is still everyone’s favorite in the neighborhood. Even now, he still sleeps in the midst of his toys just like he did when he was a baby, except that he has a new bed. Whether it is love, support, or surrender, if something is unconditional, it is absolute and not subject to any limitations or reservations: it will happen no matter what else happens. Shadow taught me that. How has he changed our lives? Honestly, I do not quite remember what life was like before Shadow came home.