Buddy

We got him home that day, and I never thought we'd be apart .
His brown eyes were twinkling under the sun, and the sparkle was mirthful.
He sat curled up in the car and trotted out as we arrived home.
Buddy was a well behaved dog. Too well behaved actually .He was probably more human than any of us. He was another little addition in my 'Black dog book'. 

It had started off with Skippy and Jessica, then Blackie, Jolly, Osiris and now it was Buddy. 

The 'Black dog book' was a personal secret for I was the ill-tempered and sometimes, ill-behaved 'black sheep' of the family. My family name is also a close kin to blackness and dark, hence the little epithet was perfect, I thought. And these dogs from the book had brought in a paradigm shift (hell, yes! No exaggeration) in my life, making me into a socially-accepted, loved actually; and grounded human being.

Buddy had changed the way I looked at Baroda. Once a drab boring and unwelcoming city, Baroda was now a safe-keep for me. If Pune was my academic roots, Baroda was now the wings. Buddy was a catalyst in this transformation. The morning walks with the little brown-eyed dog had opened my mind in addition to losing a few inches off my waistline. When Ritti was not around, Buddy was my family. He shared my loneliness and eased the feeling of being lost in the myriad of buildings, 'Fine-arty-people', serpentine roads and dingy lanes. 

Buddy would lick off my tears and snuggle beside me each night waiting for me to sleep before he would start his 'night watch'. 

 He would wait for me with his big puppy eyes fixed upon the crack of the door.  I would trot in to find him hugging me before I know it. Like all people with dogs and pups, probably I can go on with Buddy tails (eh, tales)...

However, I had to leave before we could be inseparable. My heart ached. 

And I would miss him dearly. I would think of paying a visit or dropping in for a quick 'hi'; but I thought, leaving Buddy again would be too much. 

And I sank onto my knees as I heard of his disappearance. 

I was thinking wildly that he'd come to me. I sat with my door open, even at night; trying to pick on the slightest cue taht he was there. It was quite silly of me to think Buddy would return to me, for he had never been to my new house, but 'love is blind...and lame, and illogical... and probably little crazy and insane too...'.I was thinking, he will be back as Osiris had ran back to us from miles in a week...

Well, Buddy did not return. 

I left my door ajar and tried to distinguish from the cries of the dogs in the vicinity if any was Buddy's cry. I was feeling low beyond description. Each black speckle in my vision canvas seemed as if it will magnify to form a dog figure running frantically at me...

after a week, I still leave my door unbolted at night, just to be ready to welcome Buddy when he walks in all tired and exhausted...

'My Black Dog Book'.