Even then he looked old. He came to me in the most deplorable state. He was just skin and bones, filthy and smelling like a sewer rat. He had sores all over the body and his blind eyes were gummed together with a thick scabby discharge. He was shivering, wet from the last night’s rain. He had given
up hope. Life had been a raw deal. He had been chased, kicked and shouted at by people from the time he could remember. A stray, a blind, rummaging refuse bins for morsels of food. So said the lady, a tourist who brought him to the clinic one rainy morning. She wanted me to put him down and I thought, he wanted it too. Life surely would have been mean to him, and I agreed. But I told the lady, "Ma'am, You have to arrange for the disposal of the body because unlike in your countries, here we don't have facilities for burial." And saying that, I went inside. I came out again and saw the good lady
missing and the dog there.
It was raining cats and dogs, and since the water table in my compound was very high, I couldn't dig a pit to bury him since water was filling up the hole. So, I had to postpone his death till it cleared up. But the rains fell long and hard and he ate and ate and started to enjoy life. I attended to his illnesses and he started to wag his tail. I gave him the most nondescript
of all dog's names, Balla, and he made my clinic his home. Rain, the most natural of all things given by God, also gave Balla back his life. And till his last breadth, he never forgot, he was Gods creation, His goodness was Gods goodness.
I'm a vet; I can't get mixed up emotionally with the dogs I treat. I get dogs who are loving and others who would dearly love to sever my hand with a bite. I get dogs who wag their tails nonstop and others whose tails hang down as if it's made of lead. I get dogs who jump to the table with such exuberance and others who calls for cranes to lift them up, so frightened. I get dogs who lick my hand and others whose lips churl when I try to touch. And I get dogs who stays mum till everything finishes and others who, from the time they enter the clinic, wants to bring the house down by the most annoying nonstop barking.
Dogs live by instincts, by intuition and by the training imparted by his owner. Depending on either, he comes with a mixed bag of characters. There can be so many pluses that one can overlook a minus. One can say, "he's such a nice dog in every other way but when it comes to giving medicine, he bites." or, "his only problem is whenever we go out, he destroys every thing in sight." or, " normally he doesn't bite, but he does if we try to take something from his mouth." "mine is such a dear dog but the vet is anathema to him. He tries to take the vets head off at the surgery." See, what I'm trying to get at, like a human, a dog too will have a trait minus in character.
I'm a rationalist, but however much I think, I just cannot think of anything remotely bad of Balla. And that's Gods truth. Why is he liked by all? Why does he allow to be touched by anybody, be it be to a king or a street urchin? Blindness is no handicap, there was a blind dog coming to the clinic who would love to macerate your hand if touched. Why is it that even being blind, his
face show such peace and serenity? Even being blind, why does he posses a trait of playfulness, I say to him," Hiya Balla" and he jumps and places his hands on my thighs, I whistle and hide, he search every room till he track me down. Why does he have go to a faraway shrub area for his ablutions when he has the clinic compound? Why does he behave like a lamb when bathed or jabbed a painful injection or told to retire to his place for the night? Why doesn't he churl his lips when he gets angry? I think, the reason is that anger was not in him, he is gentle to such extremity that he would offer the other cheek if he was endowed with a little more understanding. He was verily, a dog who came to my life in the most strangest of manners.. And he came to teach us that life can be led in a very gentle way.
Then, calamity came to Balla. One night he had escaped from his collar, had gone to the main road and got knocked down. During his seven odd years with us, this is the second time he did that. The first occasion, happened during the day and we managed to retrieve him before something drastic took please. Well this time he wasn't lucky. I still cannot understand, what drove him to slip through the collar. He is happy spending the night in the company of the other two, Stella and Podi Balla. Balla was in terrible shock for two days, his spine was displaced and he was paralysed in his hind quarters. Putting him to sleep came to my mind but before I could gather my wits to do it, He made a remarkable recovery. For well nigh four months till his death, he was recumbent. Though his normal trencherman’s' appetite was reduced, he still loved his food. He stilled barked when an odd noise was heard, like fire-crackers. He started to wag the tail and when you pet him, he still stretches himself and relaxes. He still had a deep sleep in the afternoons and I know his sleep is peaceful and comforting because like before, he dreams. His lips move and he gives gentle jerks. He still comes to my office during lunch time, dragging himself to be with me and the other two dogs.
And, we developed a routine. Every morning, Balla goes up on the table, and then has breakfast consisting of sardines and biscuits, then his bladder is catheterized to draw urine and finally a glucose drip is given. Again in the evening his urine is taken out. In between he's on the ground, either dozing off or listening to the multitude of sounds which is part and parcel of an
animal clinic. There was this dog who came with a hind limb fracture the other day. He was unable to get up and I requested the owner to bring again. He came the following day, his rear caked in faeces and the body smelling of stale urine. It was hard to bear and so very unfortunate. But not so Balla, who was recumbent for four months. In between taking out his urine, if he sees even a drop of urine, he would at once lick it off. His stools were always hard and well formed and immediately after voiding, he would go as far as possible without soiling himself.
The attention I afforded Balla couldn't ever have been fulfilled if not for the assistance of Nelum, the lady vet who works with me and Mr Chooty, our helper. Daily, they would give a herbal massage to Balla with cheerfulness and with a prayer to the Gods. They would bathe him in perfumed shampoo and remove the odd tick out. My wife, Lulu, would give spicy pastries which he adored and whisper sweet nothings in his ear.
Home and Abroad Animal Welfare crowd along with Janice, their leader, visited Sri Lanka and worked during the month of Easter. They were heartbroken to see Balla and they talked to him and tiptoed around him whilst at the clinic so as not to disturb him. With them came three wonderful ladies. Elizabeth, Janine and Madeline were their names. They healed with touch and prayers. They fuse their vibes with that of the patient. They focus their energy to revitalize a diseased jaded soul. They were faith healers and serious followers of ayurvedic treatment with plant base. They sat on the floor beside Balla, placed their hands on him and peace reigned on him. Unfortunately, their
stay was too short and Balla’s condition was too chronic, but I must say since then, he started wagging his tail. The greatest endorsement came from them, when they told that Balla is happy, that he's alive to the world and still loves living. That gave me impetus to move on with Balla.
On the ninth of June, Balla as usual tucked in with relish to his bowl of sardines. He had his lunch too and lo and behold, he wanted more for dinner. Chooty had to pilfer portions from Stella and Podi Balla and still he was asking for more. He has a characteristic way of looking when he knows food is around and he was doing just that. Well, I told him gluttony wasn't the most ideal of things in his condition. He retired to sleep and myself and Chooty left him for the last time. The following morning was wet and gloomy and as usual, I entered the clinic, came to where he was and said," Hello Balla!" His head didn’t turn to look at me and he was dead. He had died in his sleep,
he hadn't moved an inch from his natural sleeping posture. The photos bear witness.
Every human has in the corner of their heart, a hidden niche filled with love for the supernatural, love for poetry and butterflies, love for starry nights and love for imagining things. That niche in my heart tells that Balla didn't want me to put him to sleep when suffering would cripple him. Maybe he didn't want me to feel insecure at his death, to feel that I have lost out on
helping him that his death is due to my negligence.
Thus, his death came to him peacefully, it just flitted through him and tapped him with the lightest of touches, maybe while he was dreaming and it took him
away like a feather weaving through eddies of soft wind to that place where goodness reigns forever.
So, ladies and gentlemen, the saga of Balla ends with a powerful message for all mankind. Be always gentle as he was, be always kind as he was and never
be angry as he was. Then, you will be loved by all in your lifetime. And when you die, there'll be no pain, no sorrow. You will die not knowing that death is on the way. And all your loved ones will rejoice in your death because serenity was etched in your face, forever.
Balla, in his handicapped blind ways taught us just that.
Dr Rohan Perera
I think Dr Rohan told the story of our Bulla perfectly, he will be missed by many. Dr Rohan included some photos of Bulla after he had died. Al the time that I have been going to Sri Lanka it seems custom to show photos of the deceased so I will follow that custom and put the photos bellow.
