In the animal welfare field, you see horrible things regularly. Eventually, you start to wonder if your emotions have been permanently ground to a pulp, but last night I saw something that really hurt my heart.
Out of the five parvo puppies that we treated in Radharaman Ghera, only one is left. I saw him yesterday as I was leaving the temple and stopped to pet and play with him. He was chipper and active. Just as I was feeling this one might just make it, I caught a whiff of the strong, distinctive smell of parvo – the smell that hints his intestines might be melting inside - the smell of uncompromising death. But that's not what broke me.
It was after I left that I saw another tiny puppy near our favourite chai stall on the banks of Yamuna Maharani. He seemed to be lost - no mother around. Some big male dogs were trailing him as though they would soon make him a snack. I honked my motorbike's horn to keep them at bay.
I couldn't pick up the puppy as I was covered with parvo germs that would certainly infect him. As it was ekadashi, there were many people giving parikrama (the sacred walk around Vrindavan). The tiny puppy kept trying to follow different parikrama-goers as if one of them would pick him up and take him home. But instead, one man gave him a strong kick in the gut and the puppy went flying.
That kick is what really hurt. "What was that?!" I shouted to the man. But he barely looked back before continuing on his way.
I can understand this puppy doesn't have much chance without his mother, but why the hatred? Wouldn't it make more sense to do anything possible to make his difficult life better? I just can't understand.