April was a bad month as I learned about the death of a stray dog in our community, Baby Mama. Now home I still expect to see her pop out of no where and begin running next to my scooter — recently having her first litter she was a proud mama.Driving out of our community today and passing where she gave birth I wondered what was the meaning of her babies, her first litter, her life. Her partner seems heartbroken, upon my arrival he came running out of the darkness frantically nuzzling his head into me, a deep wailing coming from him, we grieved together.
We don’t know how Baby Mama died, her body was found in the morning, she was disposed of without examination. Believing there was help she managed to come to our gate. It is difficult not to feel that I failed her in some very illogical way. She carried her babies down the dusty road to our home, out of four only one remains. Fearing that this one remaining pup would also die a friend temporarily provided housing and the pup was named after the Hindu god Ram, still small, he will return tomorrow, all that is left of Baby Mama-to me he is Baby Mama’s Boy.
Throughout that first day home many street dogs crossed my path that I have treated, the Colas gang, only four of eight remain, but they are healthy. The temple dog, now running with her pack, gone is the pain that had her standing dazed and solitary by the side of the road — rejected by dogs and humans. Her maggot wound healed, the mange gone, stopping each time she passes, I never fail to marvel at her recovery. Driving back home tears fall, some days it is difficult to hold all the successes against the failure of one very sweet little mama — today is one of them.