I am writing in my blog after a long time, almost a year. I want to ease myself into the habit, so will start with what always takes the least effort and gives me the most pleasure- the Meryl memoirs. This is an incident that I have been wanting to write about ages- the time when Meryl went missing. She was quite old then- around 12 years, but still as childish as ever.
It all started with papa and his open jeep. She used to love jumping on to the jeep for a ride whenever papa took it out. It happened so often that he hardly even noticed. It was one of those days, and he parked the jeep outside the bank and went in. She must have jumped down to chase something or eat from a trashbin and when papa came back, he absent-mindedly drove away.
Some hours after he came back home, mummy began to look around for Meryl and after searching the house, asked the household help. One of them said that she had gone out in the jeep with papa, and he gave a half-vague look on that "Really? Yes, yes....now that I think about it, maybe she did".
Everyone panicked and went out in search for her. No stone was left unturned near the bank or the house. People who knew Meryl in our locality- the newspaper man, the baker, the milkman- were informed and kept their eyes peeled for her. But there was no sign of her anywhere.
A whole day passed. The entire household was depressed. As a rule, my mother never cries before us. I have only seen her doing that once in my life- those were also silent tears, when her mother died. I was not at home when Meryl went missing, but my sister tells me that mummy openly wept and reprimanded my father "Where have you left my dog? She must be thinking that I am old, so papa has abandoned me. Where must she be? She must be digging for food under trash bins, and having to fight with street dogs." That was indeed a disturbing picture, for Meryl never had had to work for her food at all. And fighting for anything was absolutely not her style. The best she could do was bark really loud, and run away when things got rough.
The next day my sister persuaded papa to put out a missing ad with a reward. They decided that Meryl's age should be mentioned as 14 instead of 12 so that if someone had stolen her, they would think she was too old and give her back for the money. At this, my mother who had been sitting quietly with a long face, jumped in with a ferocious look and said "My dog is NOT old! Her age is 12, and that's what we will tell!" So the ad was posted on local newspapers and TV, with Meryl's picture and a reward of Rs. 500 for whoever brought her back.
After another day of fretting, my mother took a call from a very nervous teenager. He said he had the dog, that he had not stolen her and had found her wandering. My mother quelled his fears and asked him to bring her. He wanted to carry her on a scooter but she said that the dog was too old and should be brought in an auto-rickshaw (as you can see, the dog was old or not old as the situation demanded). He was promised that the rickshaw fare would be reimbursed, and agreed to bring her in the evening.
After a nail-biting wait (could it be a different dog? would he chicken out?) an auto-rickshaw and scooter stopped outside the house. Everyone came out to the verandah, the gate opened, and in bounded Meryl, looking as plump and happy as ever. My mother ran to her with her arms open wide "Meryl!" Meryl ran to her, side-stepped her at the last moment, and made a beeline for her ball. She ran to the lawn with her ball and rolled happily, as if nothing had happened and she was just back from a long walk. My mother ignored this non-display of affection, too relieved at getting Meryl back.
The teenager seemed to have grown very fond of her. He said that she had been wandering in one of the markets near the bank, chasing any vehicle that looked like a jeep. He had taken her home and named her Dixie. She had eaten all the bread and biscuit in his house- so much for all those stories of digging for food in trash. Before leaving he called out to her "Dixie! Dixie!" But Dixie was busy rolling in the grass and had no time for emotional goodbyes.
So Meryl was back after three days. A traumatic, heart-wrenching time for my parents. A nice holiday for her, with a new playmate and lots of treats. All fun and games and not a thought for her folks back home, worrying about her. Humph. But I shouldn't be so tough on her. She must surely have missed her ball...
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