An ode to Biki

‘Biki, Biki’ — I called out frantically. She laid there uncharacteristically unresponsive. As I watched helplessly, life was ebbing out of her slowly. Her tongue was lolling. Her eyes started to glaze over. I realized that the moment was here. I squatted beside her and laid my hand over her chest. The gentle rhythm of her heartbeat was fading slowly. One last breath expelled the life out of her. Before the waves of grief came crashing, I had a few moments of eerie calm. I said a silent prayer of thanks for not prolonging her suffering, for liberating her and keeping us from having to make an impossible decision. As the arrangements were being made for her burial, I waited by her side thinking about the last couple of days.

Sickness

She was eating less over the past few weeks, something we attributed to old age. Some days, she would wolf down her food and on others, she would just walk away from her bowl. Suddenly, the vomiting began. She would throw up day after day, for a whole week, without eating even a morsel of food. She had suffered from a severe bout of idiopathic syndrome before, the symptoms were the same. We gave the medication after consulting her doctor. Other than the puking and the occasional drunk-walking, she was fairly active and drinking a good amount of water. So we were not overly worried. However, after 6 days, she suddenly collapsed while on her morning walk. She was unable to get up and walk.

Hope

The doctor came home that evening. He gave her an examination and remained non-committal about the diagnosis. He took some blood samples and started her on an IV. She seemed to gain strength as the fluids coursed through her veins. Hope raised its ugly head. Yes, she will get better. She has always pulled through, so this time should not be any different. We waited anxiously for the results of the blood test. The doctor called and said it was a chronic kidney failure. There was nothing that we could do, except wait it out. Could be 5 days or 10 or 20.

Acceptance

Could the doctor be wrong? Surely there must be something we could do. Maybe she will be the exception. She has to get better. If I get some food and vitamin supplements into her, she will be all right. As these thoughts were running amok in my head, Dad sat me down and said there is no cure, nothing to be done except ensure that her last days are comfortable. It took me a couple of minutes to process the fact that she was on the brink. At the point of no return. I made up my mind then that I would do whatever it took and be by her side till the very end. She had become quite weak by then and lost mobility in her legs. She just lay there, like she was sleeping all the time. She had given up trying to get up. She would whimper whenever she needed to be changed. On calling her name, she would turn to look at us listlessly. I had never seen her like this, devoid of the will to fight and live. It felt like she knew these were her last days. Many times, as I was petting her, she would tear up. She was suffering.

Guilt

Humans have the wonderful gift of being able to communicate about their pain. Animals cant. Their agony is internal, we can only guess what they are feeling, never knowing for sure. Seeing her suffer was heart wrenching. Unable to alleviate her pain, I began to wonder if we were being selfish, putting her through this for our satisfaction. Would it not be better if we let her go? The thought of having to make that decision was numbing. Yet she was there, dying slowly but surely. I began to understand the torment that people faced when considering euthanasia. What if would definitely haunt me for the rest of my life. I berated myself for not spotting her symptoms before. Maybe if I had paid closer attention, I would have realized that there was something serious going on and she could have been treated. At other times, I found myself wishing for the end to come soon. And would immediately burn up with shame for having such thoughts.

The arrival of neighbors snapped me out of my thoughts. They paid their last respects. The burial was over quickly. 14 years of life, put 4 feet under, in 40 minutes.

She was family. Any call from friends and family would include the customary inquiry about Biki. She was loved by all, even those who shy away from dogs. My uncle, who is not particularly fond of dogs, would make it a point to get buns and biscuits especially for her every time he visited. The kids in the neighborhood would clamor for a chance to hold her chain and take her for a walk. Those who visited would take selfies with her and she was quite the poser.

She would check on me daily morning, her nails going click-clack on the floor, announcing her arrival. She would want to be around people constantly. If we all were going out or anyone was packing a bag, she would sulk. On returning, she would be overjoyed, barking and jumping all over. She was a silent friend, a constant fixture through all the trials and tribulations of life. A reminder of simpler times, when life was uncomplicated. Always around to cheer me up with her antics, acting as a stress buster. I miss her dearly. The song ‘Seasons in the Sun’ by Westlife best describes my feelings. Bye Biki.