When I was very little, I had no companion, except for one—my dog. Its name was Bhutu (means ghost in Bengali). I used to live in India, where we found the dog. Before I was born, my dad was walking home on the streets. Then something tapped him on the leg. When my dad looked back, he saw a tiny little cute black Labrador German shepherd. My dad walked away, but then again—a tap on his leg. The puppy—it was following him. My dad picked him up and took him home, when my mom saw the puppy, she was extremely excited. She named it Bhutu! Dad gave it some milk. Bhutu rushed and slurped the plate clean! He was really hungry! This is the story about my best friend Bhutu who has been saved from the streets.
I really liked playing with Bhutu. I used to pull his tail and ears. He didn’t really mind. He use to protect me from other dangerous dogs (Good dog, Bhutu). My parents trained him and he learned in one day. For example, my parents used to say, “Bhutu, meow,” and he used to understand that there was a cat. He started chasing the cat until his legs got tired. When we used to do insect expressionions to him, he understood that insects were on him. He used to do weird expressions. And jumped a lot. He liked chasing cats, but he was afraid of mice. Whenever he saw a rat or a mousey, he used to run away. He used to also give me rides on his back. I used to think that I was a “Dog Boy.” When it was bath time for Bhutu, he used to run away. But my dad always caught him and took him down to the back yard filled with beautiful smells of fruits, flowers, and plants. He really liked going out for walks, but what he didn’t like was when cows past him. He would rush to the nearest bench and hide. He didn’t like their sounds either. Bhutu hated to be in taxis and cars. Whenever the vehicles moved, Bhutu used to think “Why is this thing moving when I am not walking?” He started walking in the car. I enjoyed Bhutu when he was home next to me watching TV mostly. He was very calm. No dog in India was that calm.
One day my Dad got a job in San Francisco, California. When we left, Bhutu was alone with my grandparents. Bhutu really liked me, but now that I was gone, he grieved and did not get out of his room for a month. We had this chatting system, luckily, so I can see Bhutu. He missed us a lot. I kept pictures of him to pretend that he was still there. I missed him a lot too. Every year he would grow bigger. And the bigger he was the more I missed him. The next summer, we planned on going to India. I could tell that Bhutu was waiting for this moment. Once we reached him, Bhutu jumped on me and licked a lot. Then, Bhutu led me somewhere where I saw an amazing thing. It was my newborn cousin. My aunt’s daughter. She was so cute. Her name is Giga. Her real name is Radhica Dhanbal. She couldn’t speak. She was like eight months old. This was a phenomenal point in my life. If Bhutu can show me all these cool things, why can’t I find out all these cool things? Finally, my aunt had to return to her own home with my cousin. I would miss her. Bhutu only got to see her for three weeks. Giga got to see Bhutu for three weeks. Now she forgot who he is. I try to tell her and she wants some proof.
Bhutu had these very bad bandages on his feet. It was due to bleeding. I don’t know what would happen to Bhutu. I though he was going to die. I patted him as long as I could and played with him a lot. I even slept with Bhutu. I was scared. On one monsoon day, Bhutu was right next to a huge window, a thunderbolt then struck it. Was Bhutu okay? Thank god. He was. Bhutu was in danger. I soon realized that he was very old. He was 54 years, doggie years, old. It was finally to go back to San Francisco. Although I knew what was going to happen to Bhutu, it was hard to forget. We reached San Francisco and I was few with words. One year, Later on 2011 while it was a great day and I was having so much fun, my mom heard really bad, terrible, horrible news. The first words of my grandma was “Bhutu had just passed away.”
He was just like a family member I could not forget that day. It was the third death I had experienced in my life. I really want another dog, but I can’t because replacing a dog is like replacing a family member. I kept pictures of him. Whenever I see those pictures I cry in my mind. One picture that I will always remember is the picture of Bhutu wearing my dad’s glasses. It made him look wise. Bhutu cannot come back even if I cried. I had dreams of him in my sleep which made me cry. Life is a matter of coming and going. I will miss him until the last days of my life. Bhutu was a noble dog who I will remember when I’m in heaven.