On Love

Well, the title must have told you everything-this post is going to be about love. I guess what I am going to write is also pretty much predictable, after all, it is the most worn-out topic in the world! People have written about the passion, the depth, the madness, the pain, the suffering, the sacrifice, the ecstasy and the sheer hope of love. We talk of the laughs we have laughed, and the tears we have cried; of first love, and how it feels like it will last forever, and for a lucky few, actually does; of love lost, and love found; of love hiding behind shy eyes, afraid to speak out; of love denying itself the relief of expression, or of love proclaiming itself from the rooftops; of love that gives, that cares, and brings us up into adulthood; of love that watches over us, always there when we need it, and always trying not to be interfering. Yes, we all have loved, we all have cried, and we all have spoken about love, or written about it, at some point in our lives.

I have loved many times and lost a few too. Today I am going to write about one of my loves(!), let's call her my Sweetheart.

I met her when she was only a month old, but already so active and cute that we, I and my father, immediately decided to take her in. Initially her name was R., but we named her S. when we brought her home. She was the prettiest thing I ever saw, and she was totally dependent on us for her needs. We used to play with her, take her repeatedly in our laps to cuddle her, and she used to look at us with those beautiful eyes of hers, and take part in our fun. I think her eyes were the most beautiful thing about her. They were a dark brown and very expressive. It was almost as if everything she wanted to say, but couldn't, was reflected in her eyes. Yes, she could not speak, but she made up for it in n number of different ways. We knew when she was sad, when she was excited, or when she was angry.

As she grew up, we got closer to each other. She had the same sun-sign as I, and I like to believe that we had a special bonding, a kind of psychic connection, because of that too. I understood her, but more importantly, she understood me. She was very young then, and I didn't expect her to comprehend what feelings I was going through at that point in my life. She might not have, but she did perceive the pain inside me, and she consoled me in her own sweet way.

Those who have been blessed with such sweet creations of God must probably have already understood who I am talking about. For those who haven't- I am talking of my sweetheart, my S. who belonged to dog-kind. She was my love, my baby, my little kid. I brought her up, but in a way, she brought me up too, she made me grow up somewhat. When she was older, I helped deliver her kids, helped her take care of them. She trusted us, and she easily let us touch her new-borns, as if that was the most natural thing to do. She knew when I was sad, or when I was angry with her, and she would come to me and mollify me. It was amazing to see her do it. It was almost as if she could read my mind and speak to me with her eyes.

Dogs have a very short life. My sweetheart left me some time ago. I like to think that she's still around somewhere, hunting some squirrel. I like to think that perhaps one day I will meet her again. I can almost imagine how she'd come to me, with that typical wagging of her tail that made her look like she was dancing. I like to think how I'll gather her up in my arms like a sheep and hug her, and how I would see her love in her beautiful, brown eyes again.