Zora, the king of the cantt

Rana Preet Gill

AFTER marriage, my husband never stopped gushing about his childhood companion, a gaddi dog named Zora. My father-in-law was in the Army and was posted at Leh, where gaddi dogs were tough survivors and kept vigil along with Army men. This particular dog took a fancy to papa and would sit in his barrack in a warm corner. It would be fed and cared for. The day papa was supposed to leave, it looked at him with forlorn eyes, as if pleading with him not to leave him alone there. And so, it came to Punjab.

Papa was posted at Tibri. The dog was christened Zora, and a new life started for him. He was more than happy in the plains and soon formed his own pack. The local dogs immediately took a liking to the active, agile and athletic dog, and without any fights Zora was crowned the king of the cantonment. 

Zora had a voracious appetite. It was fed huge quantities of chapatis and chicken and was the first to be served. Some times, it used to play mischief and treat itself to an impromptu snack. Once when breakfast was served at the dining table, Zora played a prank. Since it had a magnificent build, it could reach the table easily. Carefully, it nudged the plates forward and removed the omelette. When the kids came for breakfast, they realised that they had been served only two toasts. Soon the puzzle of the missing omlettes was solved. All eyes turned to Zora, and it nuzzled its head sheepishly in the folds of the carpet. Everyone started laughing and the skill of the dog was talked of for days. 

Zora was intelligent. It sensed the mood of every family member and acted accordingly. When it perceived someone was glum, it would try to lighten up the mood with its antics. 

Like every dog, Zora identified friends and foes with its adroit smelling power. It preferred to stay in the cantonment area and any attempt to take it for an outing was rebuffed. Since it hated to be left alone and used to protest in loud and hoarse noises (neighbours used to complain later), it was always left with some company, which meant family outings had to be sacrificed. 

Once Zora had a bad fight. An outsider pack of dogs tried to intrude and there was a vicious fight. Zora saved its pack but was wounded in the process. For days, it was untraceable. After a month, it returned home. It was feeble and the coat had lost its shine. It stayed on for a few days, but Zora was no more at home. Something had snapped within it and it had to move on. It left home and never came back. 

My husband still misses him and regales me with amusing parts of Zora’s life.