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Published: February 21st 2010
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Bonnie
At home in my Mumbai apartment. A different type of entry this time.
I'm finding less and less motivation to sit down and write about the adventures I enjoy on my trips. I mean my last posting is from the Trans Mongolian train last June! And I haven't even gotten to Ekatrinburg or Moscow or St. Petersburg on that trip yet. Let alone the Diwali trip to Turkey and the Christmas trip to Oman! Maybe its because I have so much computer work at school so I don't feel like coming home and doing more. Maybe its because I've fallen so far behind that I feel overwhelmed. No matter, its a real feeling!
But I do increasingly find a simple story or experience here at home in India that I want to write about. So maybe this Travelblog thing is also going to be a blog for the simple joys and challenges of living in India as well.
Only time will tell . . . . . .
Losing a pet is never easy. And to do so in a foreign country, where communication is sometimes strained, where care standards may vary, where cultural traditions are different, can be even more difficult.
My cat Bonnie came to me less than a year ago as my friends and fellow teachers, Agnes and Tim, moved on to teach in China. They decided it would be better for Bonnie and her sister Clyde to stay in India. They were most definitely home-body cats! Even the transition to my apartment proved quite challenging for them!
But they had adjusted, made their peace with me, accepted me as the new provider of food. And they'd done the same with Julie, my maid, who made the apartment a home for them while I spent the days at school.
In mid January Bonnie fell ill. Throughout the month long process with the vet of investigation and care, I struggled to find the balance I was accustomed to with US vet care. Seeking answers and care options without being intrusive upon the dignity of Bonnie's life. The balance can be difficult in the US, a trusted vet being essential. It was more challenging here in India. In the long run I feel so at ease and comfortable with the care Bonnie had, but it was a challenge to find that level of comfort!
When it became clear that nothing would be able to be done for Bonnie, in typical American fashion I was ready to have Bonnie put to sleep, out of her pain. And she was living in pain, sitting in that unique way that cat's sit when their body aches, unable to eat unassisted. But I found it was not so easy to have a pet put to sleep here! Mainly because in this over crowded city of apartments surrounded by concrete, there is no place for animal burial. Cremation is the norm. And to schedule the euthanasia within the vet's hours and then still have enough time to make it down to the animal care hospital where the cremations occur while working around my work schedule at the height of a series of school concerts was . . . impossible!
So I started calling friends, Indian as well as other ex-pats, to see if there was an easier way, something I hadn't thought of yet. And what I hadn't thought of yet suddenly became clear. Because over and over I was being encouraged not to have Bonnie put to sleep. Finally I realized why it was being so difficult to arrange the euthanasia and cremation - it wasn't time for that yet! For another two weeks Bonnie lived, painfully at times, but always eager to be petted. And for those two weeks she purred contentedly each time either I or Julie sat with her and petted her. It truly had not been time yet! Yes, she sat in the peculiar way that cats sit when their body is in pain. But she still had the capability to enjoy pleasure. And enjoy she did!
After her death, organizing the cremation suddenly seemed simple. Julie and I carried her body by taxi down to a beautiful farm in the middle of this teeming city. The animal care hospital is a beautiful island of barns and cows and horses and neo gothic buildings from the colonial days and trees giving gentle shade. Two very caring men built Bonnie's funeral pyre as I went to pay the requisite fee and receive the required receipt. Then Julie and I sat in the shade, passing a gentle afternoon, talking about Bonnie and the pleasures she had brought into our lives. The attendants kept us abreast of the process of the cremation. I would go over and let the smoke swirl about me for a moment, enjoying a moment of solitude, then return to sit with Julie. It was a gentle and peaceful farewell, a celebration of the beautiful pet with which we had been blessed.
As the flames settled down and the coals began to glow, the two men sifted through and set Bonnie's ashes out to cool. Julie and I talked about the plants she would buy the next day and how she would mix the ashes into the soil as she transplanted them in the planters at my apartment. Bonnie living on as she nourished those plants on my little balcony.
As we left and once again entered the maelstrom that Mumbai is, I walked more gently and with a deeper appreciation of the culture I was in, of the people all around me. Somehow it didn't seem so hectic, so harried, so rushed. It seemed more people gave their gentle Indian head wag and their soft smiles of hello. And I know I was returning those nods and smiles more contentedly than I usually do when walking on the streets of Mumbai.
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Linda
non-member comment
What a sensitive and loving way to deal with the loss of your friend and pet.