For those of you who didnt know him, he was a beautiful rust Irish Setter. 28 inches from toes to top of head. 1 year and 10 months. A growl that set your skin creeping. A bark made your heart proud to own him. When he went out for his evening walk, people stared in awe. Not a malicious bone in his body. He was all love and affection. He had beautiful soulful eyes. He loved cookies, pizza crusts, gujju food (gujarati), sweets, and anything you could offer him except his own food. When you entered the house, he would jump all over you (he came up to eye level) and cover you with spit. He hated covering his head with blankets or anything. He loved his butt and his chest being scratched. He would shake hands (both hands) simultaneously to get a cookie. He hated black dogs and cows. He used to go up to the office with papa in the morning. We used to bathe him on the terrace. He loved sleeping on beds in the bend of someone's knees. He loved guests. They loved him too. Especially frequent visitors.

We left for Simla (hill resort) on the morning of Friday. In the evening, papa called and the servant said all is well. Half an hour later, my baby died. Peacefully, painlessly. We never got to see him dead. Thank god for small mercies.

Everyone here - pa, ma, kavita - everyone has cracked up. Kavita wailed and wailed. Mom & Dad have cried for the first time in my memory. I crack the dumbest of jokes to make them laugh, coz I cant beart to see the pillars in my life shatter into smithereens. Shashvat says I shouldnt. He's been a brick. Mom says my ridiculousness provides the only stability in this strange period of mourning. The whole house feels as though Rana is just in the next room. Darshan, the servant, saw him die and cant forget the sight, nor the shock. I hope the worst is behind us now.

Rana has been buried nearby. Under three feet of mud.

Arudra Burra sent this beautiful tribute to one of the most beautiful dogs that walked the earth....
 
Dirge Without Music

I'm not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.
So it is, so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:
Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned
With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.

Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you.
be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust.
A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,
A formula, a phrase remains, - but the best is lost.

The answers quick and keen, the honest look, the laughter, the love,
They are gone. They have gone to feed the roses. Elegant and curled
Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know, but I do not approve.
More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world.

Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave,
I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.

Edna St.Vincent Millay 

"Do you never worry about anything?"
"I have a secret defence, Mr Wormwold. I am interested in life."

Graham Greene, "Our Man In Havana"