The Fool Dog

Three dogs always lived at our village home, long ago. My grandfather especially took great care of them. After that, I lost track of two of them—how they wandered off, I don't know—but one dog remained. That's why I still remember him so clearly. I remember everything about him.

When Grandfather died in 2008, the dog sat quietly to one side. And somehow the way he was looking...oh my! It seemed as if something had left him, had gone away... I saw such a restlessness in him. Later, when they took Grandfather to the cremation ground, I saw the dog go along with everyone. There too he sat silently to one side, just the same way. Ah, such tenderness had gathered in his eyes for Grandfather!

When everyone returned home after the cremation was complete, the dog didn't come back. Where he went, I don't know. The next day, at the time Grandfather used to eat, my aunt remembered the dog and went looking for him. I too thought he must be somewhere around the house; maybe he was heartbroken, so he was lying quietly somewhere or other.

Later my aunt told Father and Uncle about it. Father, Uncle, Aunt and I searched everywhere for him, wanting to give him food. When Grandfather ate, the dog would sit right beside him and eat too. And after eating, Grandfather would set aside some food; there were two or three other dogs in the neighborhood, but they didn't stay as close to Grandfather as this one did. When called at mealtime, they would eat and go away again. They moved in a sort of devil-may-care style—eating and wandering about.

Even after searching extensively, we couldn't find him, so Father took his motorcycle and went toward the cremation ground. (The cremation ground was some distance from our house.) Father inquired at houses around the cremation ground; but we never found him again.

After Grandfather's death, my grandmother lived for many more years, but Grandfather's dog couldn't stay even one day. Why are dogs such fools?