Puppy Love

A couple years ago, Sonia (my sister) flew off to India with the intent of rescuing malnourished street puppies that had been abandoned by their mothers. She didn't have to look far. Walking down a side street of our hometown one day, she spotted a tiny black puppy lying in a ditch. The puppy, a female, was on the brink of starvation, her ribs displayed prominently through her emaciated chest. My sister tried feeding her a little piece of bread, but she was too weak to eat or even move.

Wrapping the small dog in a cloth and gingerly placing her in a cardboard box, Sonia took her to a local veterinarian, who turned his nose up at the puppy. 

"Why would you bother with a street dog? It will die anyway," he said. In India, street dogs are generally viewed with disdain, and it's almost unheard of for someone to adopt one as a pet. Instead, rich Indians have their pick of expensive breeds, which have become status symbols in a highly status-conscious society. 

But fortunately the vet agreed to give the puppy a couple of shots and sold my sister some flea powder. After giving her a bath, my sister discovered a star-shaped patch of white fur on her chest... and subsequently named her "Tara", which means "star" in Sanskrit. At first, Tara couldn't hold down anything more than water. But after recuperating for some time, she was able to start digesting heavier foods like milk and roti, a flat Indian bread. Covered in the white, chalky flea powder from the tip of her snout to the end of her tail, Tara managed to frighten the neighbours on more than one occasion.

Against all odds, my sister nursed the small puppy back to life with healthy meals, regular washings and countless patting sessions. She got a great sense of satisfaction when she took Tara back to the vet for another round of shots. The vet was shocked ... whereas the puppy had come to him before as an emaciated shell, she now had a shiny black coat of fur, sparkling eyes and boundless energy.

"This is a beautiful dog," he conceded.

Upon regaining her energy, Tara showed a particular fondness for shoes, sometimes grabbing people's chappals right off their feet. When my sister would discover some mischief - like a chewed up shoe or a missing roti - she would confront Tara, ready to give her a light smack. But the dog would leap into her cardboard box and cower guiltily... she was a master of the "puppy eyes", which made it virtually impossible to administer any form of punishment.

But as Sonia soon discovered, Tara still had the restless energy of the street dog, repeatedly escaping the property to go play in the streets. Although this bothered my sister at first, she eventually realized that it was only in the dog's nature. So she found a healthy compromise: Tara could run off every morning and then come back in the evening for a meal and a comfortable place to sleep. After two months, my sister returned to Canada, feeling like her mission had been accomplished.

Ever since then, Tara has become a fixture of our Indian neighbourhood. Not only is she popular with the children, but with everyone else as well - our prim-and-proper neighbours, the elderly, the shopkeepers... even the homeless. Each year, she greets a fresh batch of Canadians who travel to our Indian home (which doubles as a yoga retreat centre) searching for spiritual solace. They don't have to look far to find a miracle, because there's one that meets them right at the doorstep; a living, breathing, tail-wagging miracle.

Shortly after the rescue

Bath time

Healthy and happy

Puppy eyes

All grown up