Opinion My dog, my dearest friend
For us, he was a dog, friend, child, boss, all rolled into one. Travel well, and paint the other side in all your colours, Dali
For us, he was a dog, friend, child, boss, all rolled into one. We named him Dali because his tiny face and body seemed strikingly painted in three hues, dark brown, light brown and white. (Representational Photo/AP) 
Dali defied death, once. It was on the day that he was born. He was lying in the middle of a street on a terribly cold winter night in Delhi, abandoned or perhaps lost. He looked closer to a mouse than a puppy. He was only a few hours old. A murder of crows was curious about him as was a pack of dogs. The latter belonged to an aunt who was walking them in the early hours of the morning. She bent down to pick up the lifeless body, to save it from some indignity. Just then, he opened his mouth; his eyes would not open till a fortnight later. And he was brought back to life with the warmth of a hot water bottle.
Death finally caught up, as it does with all. At 10, Dali was an old dog, but not elderly. Perhaps, the ever-defiant Dali wanted to cock a snook at old age and its infirmities. He was an unusual dog. He did not have the fortune of being reared by his biological mother. He was reared by his human parents, with bottled milk and cerelac. For a long time, he turned away when he saw another of his species. Later in life, he would sneer at his fellow dogs. Dali acquired a human core. He would communicate, clearly expressing pleasure and displeasure, his likes and dislikes. He had a language of his own, not a bark, but a melody of guttural sounds.
He also picked up that other human, not-so-canine, instinct, of distrust. He could tell the difference between good and bad, and rarely gave any benefit of the doubt. His aggression, backed by reason but acted on with some lethality, made him the stuff of legends outside his nuclear family.
For us, he was a dog, friend, child, boss, all rolled into one. We named him Dali because his tiny face and body seemed strikingly painted in three hues, dark brown, light brown and white. Little did we know that he would turn out as colourful a personality as his namesake.
He didn’t want to hear a no. From the very start. His first bark was provoked by a pointed finger asking him to sit down. He had a mind of his own. More than a dozen trainers were sent packing. One, who trained police dogs, wondered why we wanted a trainer at all since Dali seemed highly intelligent, discerning about people and protective of his family, all without training.
Dali always had the hand of the divine on him. When he was a few months old, he strolled out of the gate of our home, wandered off and apparently couldn’t find his way back. A frantic search ensued for the better part of five hours. Our cook, whom Dali was fond of, blamed himself for his disappearance but took no part in the search. Instead, he chose to meditate in his room. While the search party was out in strength, we saw the cook cycle out of the house and return a few minutes later with Dali in tow. The cook said that while deep in meditation, he saw a vision of Dali sitting somewhere just outside our colony and claimed he found him on the exact spot.
Dali had a high IQ but also an exemplary EQ. During Covid, he could sense our anxiety and stress and made sure he was a constant calming influence. In fact, during the lockdown, our brief walks with him outdoors were a break from the bleak reality.
As we watched the flames engulf his pyre, there were tears. But the fire burning bright was also a reminder of a feisty, defiant and loving dog who lit up our ordinary lives. Travel well my friend, and paint the other side in all your colours.
The writer is an economist and columnist
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