Zhandi taught me to be strong, tolerant and keep my emotions under control, be generous to foes and joyful with friends. As to me, I just fed him regularly.
There were many events, troubles and insightful stories in our life, it is hard to remember everything. And as people say nothing boded ill. But perhaps we had to overcome one more test, and as I will later say – the subjunctive mood test. Do remember that horrible “if only…”.
It was an ordinary morning but unusually quiet – there was a scent of trouble in the air. And so it really was. Zhandi unlike before didn’t greet me as he had been doing during the last 12 years, and he was lying with that silent look but a glimmer of hope that it wasn’t the end. Further events were as in a fog – phone calls, search for a doctor, diagnosis of cancer, need for surgery, tears of despair and blind faith in a better outcome. Despite the successfully performed four-hour surgery in the course of which Zhandi’s heart stopped beating twice he survived, it was not for nothing that he was called Zhandi the Strong.
He did a nice job, but my turn came. Surely, I shouldn’t have shown heroism at that time, I should have just made a decision whether to give him chemotherapy or not. The surgeons just aggravated my uncertainty having mentioned the 50% efficiency of my decision made. To treat or not to treat, which is better? My friend’s life or death was put on the line. And there came the moment of truth, just when I wanted Him to direct me or somehow give me a tip – whether to have it or not. And He watched me genuinely with the dog’s eyes having faith in my wisdom or maybe he just followed my thoughts and my behavior. As the man is judged not by his mistakes, but by his response to them.
There are good grounds for saying that being at the last moments of life each of us thinks of God. My heart seemed to be tearing apart and 12 years of life with my dog flashed before my eyes with lively images: when we played with a ball, bathed in cool morning water, rejoiced over our victories and a tasty morsel, when he licked the tears of failure and defeat from my face, when he defended me fearlessly attacking the armed enemy being himself covered only with a thin and smooth but wire by touch and rich red fire-like coat.
I made a decision – to treat. It was a mistake! My faithful companion died. He died bravely, with no whimper, having set his jaws. And I being stricken with despair and the wrong decision was disconsolate in my sorrow for a long time constantly thinking that Zhandi had known the outcome beforehand. He knew it when being weakened by the surgery he couldn’t accept the challenge of a wicked dog and his no less wicked master during the evening walk. He knew it and trusting me completely taught me the last and the most important lesson at the expense of his life.
Six months passed. It is human nature to repress the psychotrauma due to the everyday life bustle and keep only pleasant memories. Anyway, an hour never passed without thinking of my friend. In my mind I told him how I missed him. And entirely by accident on one of the average days when surfing the Internet I saw a puppy looking at me from the computer screen. But the main thing was that it was His look. The look of Zhandi! He seemed to tell me: “Yes, yes, you are not mistaken, this is me!”
In an hour I was on my way through the whole country about 2 thousand kilometers away having pushed all the matters aside to get my dog. The dog who had been with me for those difficult 12 years, who had taught me and protected me, who had understood me without any words just reading my mind, and who didn’t leave me alone with my heavy heart when he heard my prayers. The dog who was calling me!
I didn’t have to explain to the manager of the doghouse why that was my dog, she understood everything when out of the whole pack of Staffordshire Bull Terrier puppies William was the only one who rushed at me when I suddenly stepped in the doorway and quietly sat on my foot like Zhandi used to do.
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