Dogged by damn garbage
Sunday, May 1, 2011 at 5:03PM 
Garbage in RMV 2nd Stage, Bangalore
Last week I looked benignly at the lady on First Main as she stepped out in her nightgown with her mongrel on a leash. The two tended toward separate ways but her arm prevailed even as it shook. Still, the dog did his thing against her wishes, which she barked shrilly to him in the calm of morning: "Chee, chee, no, no! Not there! Cheee!" English is the local language for dogs. Two days ago, in the morning after a rainy night I heard another lady express herself to hers: "What man, where can I find a dry place for you?" With the already bemused face of a mastiff and the body of some other indeterminate breed he looked about for a place to end his suffering and gave up and sought to distract himself through staring at me and I gave him back my best hard look which had no effect. Later, during the same walk, I smiled as I passed the house behind my street where a little white expat girl commanded her Labrador to "Come here!" but the fellow merely dashed about, flashing his beige coat here and there between a sedan and an SUV in their open garage.
But I am writing to complain regarding street dogs: On this morning's walk, when I came to the top of the famous 80-feet Road, near where our Chief Minister lives, three strays came running up to me and one of them snapped at my shin and tore my track pants and bruised my leg, and when I shouted at the fellow he fled to the other side of the street and watched me sidelong. I looked at him two moments and accepted defeat and went on. Two hours later I took a tetanus shot and an anti-rabies shot and a prescription of four more anti-rabies shots and another one of immunogloblin which costs 40,000 rupees. And antibiotics for five days, thrice daily.
I am asking myself if I am worthy of a shot which costs 40,000 rupees and because I haven't got a good answer from in me, I won't take it. It is the only medicine with a 100% guarantee of safety, the doctor told me, generous in her sympathy. "Patients want to go and shoot the dog when they hear this. You only have a scratch; but you can't say."
It occurred to me to ask at the in-house pharmacy of the hospital how many of those anti-rabies shots sell in a day in their hospital. Two were sold today besides mine. That is the daily average as well. The shot is light—you feel only the press of the nurse's firm hand. No more. But you feel the burden of inconvenience. I am surprised that I feel no anger toward the dog, but I am nursing many emotions for fellow Bangaloreans who dump garbage anywhere and lack both desire and initiative to keep their neighborhood clean. Dogs come to town hunting for garbage; when they find it in loads like here, they settle, and are soon sovereigns in their streets.
An article in the Times of India on the subject.
Another one in the same newspaper.
Reader Comments (1)
40,000 rupees anti-rabies shot!!! This shoots up my fear for dogs 400,000 fold.
Ignorance is a bliss, isn't it? :)