The silence of the night was creeping in the hospital room where I sat beside my 12-year-old daughter Janny. She developed a malignant growth that required one of her legs to be amputated. She was required to undergo surgery followed by long months of rehabilitation. The whole family was devastated to hear the news and we constantly prayed for some miracle to happen.
It was about two o’clock at night. Today Janny was supposed to undergo the operation after which she would be devoid of one leg, forever. I was sitting beside her bed, dumb and silent. Janny lay in her bed, sleepless, looking outside the window at the starry night. None of us had spoken a single word for hours now when suddenly she broke the silence by asking, “Daddy, remember Vicky?”
Our family lived in Alaska. The place where we lived was rather isolated away from the city and surrounded by the snowy mountains. Wildlife flourished in the quiet countryside. One winter evening as I was walking along with Janny I heard a distant cry. It seemed like an animal in pain.
Following a search we came across a young white dog, twisting and groaning in pain. He was one of those breeds of dogs that had a robust built and were usually used to assist man in hunting. On close inspection, we found one of his legs bleeding profusely.
“Look at his leg, “ Janny said. “It’s bleeding.”
I removed my jacket and gently placed it over the animal to provide him some warmth. Probably he got stuck in one of those cracks that often form on the surface of the ice and he must have hurt himself trying to free his leg. He showed no fear from us. His brown twinkling eyes indicated the pain he was in.
“Daddy, we can’t leave him here,” Janny said. “We should take him home or else he will starve and freeze to death.”
“Of course we should take him with us,” I replied.
I carried him in my arms. He was quite heavy and it took a lot of effort to carry him all the way.
“Daddy, can we give him a name,” Janny said on the way home.
“Can you think of any?” I asked her.
“Vicky. We will call him Vicky. Isn’t it cute?” She said.
And from that day we started calling him by that name only.
“Oh please dad, do something or he will die for sure.” Cried my youngest son, Larry, as we all surrounded Vicky that lay on the table.
“Daddy, will Vicky won't ever be able to walk again?” asked my son Robin.
“Why not son. He will be perfectly okay.” I said, though without much hope.
I carefully examined his wounded leg. I had done a First Aid course before and with whatever little knowledge I had, I decided to operate upon him. His leg was very badly wounded and I felt certain that the only way to save his life was to amputee the leg.
Using the cotton balls soaked with ether, Janny administered an anesthetic. As soon as Vicky was out, I cleaned and disinfected his wound. Then I cleared the white fur with scissors to expose the shattered bones. There were about five fractures in all. With the help of a surgical knife and a cutter I slowly and carefully had his leg separated from the body. Then I sewed the skin together, bandaged the entire area, and wrapped him with blankets and warm clothes.
Hours after Vicky opened his eyes. He raised his head slightly and looked around but made no move to stand. Then he again went to sleep.
The next morning, Vicky was breathing evenly. And as he tried to stand he tumbled. He tried a few more times but couldn’t succeed. We watched him helplessly from a distance.
Within days, however, Vicky began to eat and be more alert. I often noticed him staring into the living room. He seemed to have liked his new home and his new friends. We had spread a blanket on the floor and covered it with a cloth. Janny and her brothers became so fond of him that they only left his side long enough to eat and run to the bathroom.
In a few days, Vicky was able to stand on his legs. The courage he had shown all these days was immense. Now he was also growing healthy as before.
Soon it seemed that this house became his world, the place where he felt more secure. But then I often him looking out of the window, probably thinking of his real-world outside, the world to which he belonged to. He seemed to be sad.
I understood that it was time to leave Vicky out again to his rightful place. Animals like him were never considered pets. It was against the law of nature. And when I told this to the children they were very sad. Though they understood what I said they did not want to part away with him. But then it had to be done.
That day we kept the door open throughout the day. Vicky came near the door many times. We expected him to rush out and vanish in the woods. Instead every time he stood there for some time and went back to his resting place.
“See Daddy.” Said Larry. “He doesn’t want to go.”
The same thing happened for three-four days and finally one day Vicky ventured out and disappeared in the snow. Torn by happiness and sadness, the children cried aloud and were awake till late at night with the door open, in case Vicky returned. He did not come.
We kept some food in a bowl near to his blanket and kept the door open every night. And one morning we saw the bowl empty. In the snow near to our house were Vicky’s distinctive paw prints. He had come the previous night.
For two weeks Vicky returned every night to eat the food we would leave for him. One morning there was a fresh piece of flesh in his bowl. Seeing this Janny shouted. “Daddy, Vicky will survive. He can hunt for his food now.”
Then his visits became less frequent.
In June we had to move. The day before we were to leave we waited for Vicky the whole night. But he did not come and children cried like anything. I too felt sad.
The next day when we were loading the bags and luggage’s onto the truck we kept looking around in between for him. And finally, when we were ready to leave we saw him sitting under a tree watching us. He looked healthy but sad. The children got down from the bus and ran towards him shouting “Vicky, Vicky” in full volume. They all hugged and kissed him. Vicky licked their faces with his tongue and I stood at a distance watching them as tears rolled down my eyes. Here I was watching perhaps the purest form of man-animal relationship. By this time even the truck driver had got down and was watching the scene. In between, I saw Vicky looking at me with wet eyes. He probably understood that this was our last meeting. I raised both my arms and he came running towards me.
“Vicky,” I said, “Look after yourself.” He produced a short shrieking noise and licked me again and again.
Finally, we climbed onto the truck, and Vicky with his big tongue out and his only leg in the air, bid us a tearful goodbye. We too waved our hands in the air and slowly he disappeared in the snow as our truck moved on.
That night all the memories of Vicky flashed back to me.
“Tell Daddy. Do you remember Vicky?” repeated Janny.
“Yes, my dear,” I said in a choking voice, keeping Janny’s hand pressed against mine. “I remember him.”
“You know dad.” She said. “Vicky was brave. Very brave. Even without one of his legs he fought and won. I too like him won’t give up. I won’t let anything stop me from doing the things I want to do in my life.”
“Yes, my child. “I said. “You shouldn’t.”
“Yes, daddy.” She said. “Otherwise Vicky would feel bad.”
My heart shook. I understood that she was getting all her courage from Vicky. Without him probably she would not have been able to survive this. He had made her brave and courageous.
After the operation, Janny came out good. After a few days of struggle and practice she like Vicky was able to cope up with this type of life and now is as happy as ever.
As for Vicky, I like to think that he found some good partner and led a peaceful life. We never went back to Alaska but even today whenever I see snow anywhere I remind of him and picture those unique footprints in the soft snow. And many times I’ve wondered if his coming into our life was meant to teach us about dealing with life’s hardships and joys.
In my heart, probably I knew the answer.
