Rambo

He had a smooth skin... light brown in colour, deep penetrating eyes and a swift and agile body. He was not very tall, and not exactly handsome, yet he had this inherent capacity to attract anyone who came in contact with him. Vying for his attention was our favourite past time, which he reciprocated magnanimously. He was fiercely protective of us and disliked any intruder who happened to try and take away his moment of.... well, bliss. For the uninitiated, he was a street dog named Rambo.

Rambo was christened........Rambo by the people of our building, who took it as their responsibility to look after him after he was found as an abandoned puppy on a rainy weather, shivering under a big mango tree inside the  compound. He was this adorable little thing who was separated from his mother, for some reason, which we knew we would never able to find out. Nevertheless, all were happy to have him. We used to take delight in bringing biscuits or some leftovers to feed him and see him gobble up the delicacies. He always seemed hungry and never refused any food. He used to enjoy all the attention showered on him and seemed very happy frolicking about with us. But I had always noticed a tinge of sadness in his eyes. They always seemed to be searching for something....his mother? Siblings? We'll never know. 

Rambo never had a home of his own. He used to make himself comfortable wherever he found a cosy place, whether in the building corridor, or near the electric box, or under a tree. He used to follow us wherever we went and we had to shoo him many a time, lest he discovered our secret places and showed it to our enemies. Of course, we too had enemies, with whom we fought and refused to play!  Time flew by and Rambo became er.... a dog. We had become accustomed to his presence and used to wonder how he managed to look clean. No one ever gave him a bath! He still considered our building compound to be his home and even if he was not to be found the whole day, he would dutifully return to his home in the night. We all slept peacefully, knowing fully well that he would bark down the guts of anyone who dared to sneak past his vigil. Rambo had made a place in everyone's heart. Or so it seemed!

One fine morning, we heard a shrill whining sound and recognized it to be that of Rambo. A small crowd had gathered and I too ran down to see what the commotion was all about. What I saw was unbelievable! Someone had poured boiling water on Rambo's body scalding his back to the extent that the red flesh under his brown coat was visible. He was understandably in pain and even though people gauged who the culprit was, no one said anything. After all, it was only a dog and not a human being, right? Human life is precious and who cares for a dog's life! The elders then put some turmeric on the wound and busied themselves for the day's work, strictly forbidding us not to go near him, lest we catch some infection from the wound. Rambo slowly retreated to his favourite corner. As days passed and the wound did not seem to be healing, they shooed Rambo away from the building. There was this huge open ground right in front and Rambo made  this ground, his home. He used to eat if someone fed him or go hungry as he was too weak to go in search of food. 

After some days, we heard that Rambo had passed away and the municipal van would soon come to pick up his lifeless body. To this day, when I see a street dog with a wound, I am immediately reminded of Rambo, who lived with us and served us, but died a....well......dog's death.