A couple of weeks ago, I received the sad news that my friend’s dog, Huckleberry Finn, had passed away. He was an Indian rescue dog and lived with one one of my favorite bloggers, Rachel. This girl single-handedly prepared me for my journey to India with her direct and detailed posts about life and living there. After I’d arrived, we shared some brief discussion about my potentially visiting Goa, where she resides. At one moment, I didn’t think this trip would be feasible, and then I found out (thanks to India’s various holidays) I would have an extended weekend. I was encouraged by the organization I was volunteering with in Mumbai to take the trip to Goa. When Rachel invited me to stay with her, I responded with a quick and easy yes.
But this post isn’t about Rachel and me. It is about Huck.
If you follow Rachel’s blog or Instagram, you will know that Huck was an integral part of her life in India. While she hasn’t been able to write about his passing, she said it would be alright if I did. Though I didn’t know him as well as Rachel did, I was touched by his spirit during my visit, and I felt his loss personally. His big personality reached a lot of people. I firmly hold that animals are therapeutic, and in everything that I experienced before and during my time in India, I didn’t have enough contact with animals there to help me process my feelings. Huck filled that healing space for a few brief days while I was in Goa.
Rachel greeted me where the cab dropped me off. She was a flash of blonde hair and long limbs. By her side was Huck. Rachel was with Huck. Huck was with Rachel. That’s how it was. I followed them into their home and proceeded to play with Huck – or rather, he played with me. He engaged me immediately, carefully taking my hand in his mouth and tugging. He was gentle and playful all at the same time. This carried on for a while.
Rachel and I went for dinner the first night. When we returned, we found a guilty looking dog. His face is proof that animals have feelings. He had eaten a couple of Rachel’s boardgames, the pieces were scattered all over the house.
Huck was a major troublemaker. He caused mayhem, for sure, but he was the biggest suck around. A total lover. He was just lonely that night, and voiced his discontent by destroying a couple of boardgames. Then he sat on the couch and just looked at Rachel.
About 75% of the time, Huck was on the go. He was curious and eager to be entertained. If I left my bedroom door open, I could count on finding Huck with his nose buried deep in its contents. If each time this happened I didn’t catch him soon enough, my stuff would have followed behind the boardgames. One time, I think he ate a roll of toilet paper and a bar of soap. Rachel took him outside often to go for walks and to play by the pool. She would try to coax him into the water to retrieve his toys, and he would comically paw at the water and stick his face in, blowing bubbles. He accompanied us to the restaurant near her house, and I recall fondly his little face looking up over the table, hoping and waiting. I think he got a shrimp tail or two. Later, on our walk back, we laughed at his habit of hanging onto the very edge of a steep ditch to relieve himself. It was as if he liked the thrill of risking life and limb to have a poo. His legs would quiver, but he wouldn’t fall.
In the quiet moments with Huck, after all the running around, he would settle in on the couch, and he wasn’t happy unless he was pressed up against one of us.
I will never forget Huck. He has reminded me how lucky I have been in my travels to come across animals like him, who are selfless and loving and just want to have a good time and be with you. Their only goal is to make you smile, and they don’t even know it. Because of Huck, I have decided to remember the animals who have touched me and helped me – spiritually, emotionally, mentally… even physically. Most animals don’t live longer than humans (and aren’t meant to), but it is still important to remember their place in our individual and collective lives. Animals have saved me again and again. Huck was no different.
Rachel mentioned that Huck died from rabies. Despite being vaccinated and rarely playing with other dogs, this is still what happened. A lot of people don’t understand how this even makes sense, and my only response is one I got a lot when I lived in Mumbai, one that is the only explanation there is sometimes: “This is India.”
It’s just how it is. It’s the inherent tragic nature of this place, the place that sees millions of starving and abandoned animals in the street every day, the place that sees cows ambling casually down the street – maybe eating well, or maybe eating garbage, the place that steals the life of a dog only a couple of years old, long before his time.
When I said goodbye to Rachel, it was more of a “see you later”. That sentiment was for Huck as well. I knew I would be back in India one day – a matter of when rather than if – and I even told Rachel I would come dog sit during monsoon so she could be free to travel. I was really looking forward to doing that one day and spending some quality time with Huck.
When I said goodbye, I hoisted my backpack on and trudged out of the house to the cab waiting out front. I glanced back only once, and the sight I saw broke my heart. Huck had climbed up on the windowsill to watch me go… and not to anthropomorphize here, but I’m convinced he was counting on seeing me again too.
Rest in peace, Huckleberry. We will miss you.
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Make sure you stop by Rachel’s blog and say hello and send her some well wishes. Follow her on Instagram (for all the cute animal pics and to remember Huck), and she’s also reachable by twitter and Facebook too.
