The idea that a man can live all alone without anyone else around always fascinated him. He had once been to a spiritual retreat where you weren’t even suppose to look at the other people. He had enjoyed each of those days thoroughly. He really enjoyed solitude. When they was no one around, he would feel somewhat at peace. He only felt lonely in crowded places. His friends were crutches for him, he was too handicapped to deal with the world.
He had dreamt of a life in some mountain alone within miles and on exceptionally good terms with the neighbour a few miles away. Over a period of time, he travelled alone to a lot of places and at one such place, all alone, but not lonely, he started talking to a bitch who used to stroll outside the cheap lodge he was staying in. He had cuddled her and fed her some biscuits. The next day, he heard little puppies yapping and realised the bitch had been pregnant. He gave her food for two more days. The third day he saw that some brilliant people for their entertainment hit the bitch and the puppies with stones. 2-3 of them died the same day. Two or three wailed all day and all night for two days and nights making him shudder. Then it all died down except for the yapping of a single little pup who survived. The next morning when he discovered the pup, he felt deliriously happy. He fed him milk and biscuits. Cuddled him, put on such an act of motherhood that the puppy followed him to his room. That was the first dog called Doggy. His first pet. The Doggy now was the fourth. A dog lives a few years more than a decade. He had outlived three Doggies. He didn’t feel like continuing that. He hoped that this was the last Doggy he’d have to know.