wutheringheights

There was every reason for a dog-catcher to throw his rope at Thomman. He never wore a collar – the symbol that helped identify pet dogs from the stray ones. Thomman was healthy and handsome. He had big black & white circles on his body. A chronic wanderer, he would walk into our house only at lunch and supper hours. In the early 1980s, animal protection laws were not very effective and the dog-catchers used to kill the dogs they trapped. It was on the way to school we saw his body lying on a drainage slab with his mouth open. Tears kept rolling down from my eyes till I reached school.  Pomeranian dogs were fashionable those days. One day, dad got up early and left home before we woke up. He returned before noon, holding a white puppy in his hand. “Female… female dog… throw her outside now itself,” shouted my grandfather. “No, I paid Rs 50 for the puppy. I don’t want to throw her out,” dad said. Grandfather was cool, but he looked at his son as if he did something wr