She was a beautiful mongrel — a cross between a thoroughbred Doberman and a Labrador. Brandy had taken the best from both her parents and had a lovely rust and golden colour (hence the name), with symmetrically placed black on her jaw and over her eyes. It was fascinating how she communicated with each of us. She was almost human!

"Brandy! Brandy!" we called but there was still no response. It was over an hour since her absence had been noticed.

Our father got the car out and went looking for her, while Kaaran along with tea estate workers scoured the entire estate and more, calling out her name, searching for any sign of her. There wasn’t a trace.

She had gone out of our lives as suddenly as she had come into it.

Brandy was a little pup of three weeks when a colleague had brought her and her brother to me. A naughty little golden bundle. Being single and living alone in a flat in New Delhi, I couldn’t keep them both. I chose the female pup and because of her colour and her spirit, named her Brandy.

It was tough at first. My housemaid had gone on a 10-day vacation. So, poor little Brandy had to be alone at home till I returned from work. She would come running to me each evening, yapping with joy. Often, I tried getting away during lunch and driving home to check on her. Once the housemaid returned, life was easier for us.

Brandy was only seven weeks old, when she ran into the path of a car. She escaped with her life and three broken legs.

I remember the first night after the accident. The vet had given her a temporary bandage on her broken front leg. It was too late for an X-ray that day, so we had to wait till the next morning.

Brandy was in considerable pain and though drugged, kept whining helplessly in pain. I held her in my arms as I sat up on the carpet in my room and prayed aloud. That seemed to calm her down and she finally fell asleep.

The X-ray revealed a multiple fracture in her front right leg and shoulder, as well as fractures in her rear legs. "You may have to put her down," said the doctor. I was determined not to do anything of the sort. Well! Go to Dr Sharma, he said. "If he can’t fix it, no one will be able to. He is your best bet."

"We will give it a shot. I will have to insert a steel rod into her leg," said Dr Sharma after carefully examining both Brandy and the X-ray. "The bone will grow around it. She will be as good as new. Bring her in for surgery tomorrow."

It took Dr Sharma an hour and a half to complete the procedure. He was right. Brandy grew up to be the strongest dog I ever owned.

For six weeks, Brandy hopped around with three legs in plaster. She was the bravest heart in the colony and had earned herself a set of admirers, who visited her every day.

Brandy grew up well and strong. She was always very spirited and protective of me. Her favourite game was fetching her wooden ball and dropping it in my lap, on my return from the office each evening. We would have a good half an hour of playing ‘fetch’, before I was allowed to have my cup of tea!

We spent a happy three years together in Delhi.

During this period, Brandy had two lovely litters. What a lively family we were in those times. We managed to find all of them good homes. Thankfully, Brandy didn’t miss them once they were gone. To me, it was proof of the trust she placed in me.

One morning, I received my transfer orders. I had to pack and leave within six weeks! My parents, who live in a hill station, on their tea estate where I grew up, offered to bail me out. It was decided that Brandy would go and live with them.

She loved the open countryside. Everyone was very careful with her. The family loved her and Brandy thrived. Her favourite pastime was running about in the huge garden and chasing the rabbits and mongooses. Some field rats were also at the receiving end of her enthusiasm. My only worry was the threat of the leopards that roamed the area.

Then, one day, she went missing. After two hours of searching for her, she was found in the garden shed, guarding a hole in the hope that a rat would finally emerge.

It was a year before I went home to Palampur and could actually see my dog cry in joy, as did I. After a tumble in the grass, in expression of the joy at our reunion, she promptly fetched her ball and dropped it in my lap! We spent a good fortnight together, playing the crazy games only she and I could play.

When I was leaving, that Sunday, Brandy stood forlorn at the window, with her tail down and her chin on the windowsill. I had shut the door of the room, so that she wouldn’t chase after my car when I drove away.

As I turned around with tears in my eyes, I shook off a crazy feeling that this might be the last time I would be seeing her.

She had fought the leopard once before. My father had heard her yelp and had run out of the house, instinctively shouting, at the top of his voice.

This prompted the gardeners to follow him. They had heard her too and knew it was a leopard attack. Shakti, our cook, saw that the leopard had already lifted all 20 kg of her off the ground and had tossed her into the air, twice.

Swift as always, Brandy was able to make good her escape from the jaws of the leopard. The shouting and noise created by everyone had scared it off.

She was a shaken dog for the next two days. Brandy being Brandy, soon got over it. But the leopard had marked its prey. Three months later, the evening of June 24, 1999, was the last time they ever saw her.

She had eaten her evening meal. The door of our cottage had not been locked yet, as my brother was to be home in another few minutes. He always called Brandy ‘his’ dog. Her games with him were quite like those she played with me.

Brandy perked up her ears. She had heard his car come up the road. My mother and sister-in-law got up and went into the kitchen to get some tea ready for everyone. That is when they heard the door open and shut. As always, Brandy had run out of the cottage to greet Kaaran. Only this time, it was different.

The leopard was waiting for her.