Remembering Buddy and the Tragic Loss of Beloved Dogs
My heart is heavy, clouded like the mist that swirls around the hills and valleys of the Abode of the Gods. Today, the familiar weight of grief settles again—I’ve lost another dog to the elusive predator that roams this range.
It all began on November 11, 2012, a day etched in my memory when my daughter Jennifer, brimming with excitement, asked me to accompany her to school. She wouldn’t say what for, just that it was important and needed my help. Knowing her playful nature, I relented.
At school, she made a beeline for Ms. Trina’s cottage and had a quick confab with her, followed by a word with Brother Mervin. I watched as she led me, eyes sparkling, to the Brother’s quarters. As we entered, I saw what had brought her so much joy—a litter of Great Dane pups, born on October 6th. She had made up her mind to buy the pups that were up for sale.
Despite my pleas not to get a puppy, especially knowing she wouldn’t be home enough to care for it, Jennifer insisted. She picked a black Great Dane with a white chest and paid 2,000 rupees on the spot. Her happiness was boundless; she danced with the pup in her arms, urging me to rush home before I could change her mind.
I’ve loved dogs all my life. As a child, I was inseparable from them, and though I had promised myself never to take on the heartache of losing one again, Jennifer’s new puppy meant I would once more find myself attached to a furry soul. My heart had only mended from losing Bosky, my beloved Basset Hound, and I swore I wouldn’t endure such pain again. But here I was, with Buddy, the recent addition to our family.
Buddy grew, soon resembling a real-life Scooby-Doo with his large, lumbering frame and curious nature. He was a big goofball, startled by even the sudden flutter of a bird or the crackle of leaves. Once, in a comical turn of events, he stuck his nose into a nest of red ants—we spent the evening picking them off his snout. He was a bundle of love and joy, especially during the winter holidays when we could spend more time with him.
In our home, we always considered Buddy as part of the family. He was family. As he grew bigger, Jennifer’s apartment on the first floor became too cramped to contain his boundless energy. Buddy moved to our home, where he had the freedom to run around and stretch his legs. Unfortunately, my life took a turn on April 16, 2013, because of a devastating accident that left me incapable of caring for him in the same manner. I could no longer take him on his regular long walks, and when I unleashed him, he would roam around the village, causing issues with the locals’ livestock and prized chickens.
Jennifer attempted to handle him, but Buddy had become too large and strong for her to manage alone. I made the tough call to send Buddy back to his birthplace—the Brothers at St. Mary’s High School. In August 2014, he returned to the place that welcomed him with open arms. The school kids adored him, and he became the favourite of many teachers. His friendly demeanour while roaming won the hearts of everyone he met.
Whenever I visited, Buddy would greet me with exuberant affection, his tail wagging, his whole body leaping at the sight of me. He never forgot us, and we never stopped missing him. But on the night of January 4, 2015, tragedy struck.
Around 3 a.m., the leopard prowled into the school grounds. Buddy, who the night watchman neglected to put into his cage, became an easy target. By dawn, it was too late. The leopard took him.
This was not the first time the leopard had attacked, and it wouldn’t be the last. When a leopard seizes prey, it revisits the spot, and as expected, it returns the very next night. This time, it attacked Brownie, a massive female Great Dane. Though she fought, she succumbed to her injuries by morning. Max, a second Great Dane, went missing after the assault, while Shadow, the old Dane, suffered injuries but survived.
As I write this, I’ve learned that Max returned with a deep gash in his head, likely from another encounter with the leopard. Out of six majestic Great Danes once cared for by the school, only two remain. One by one, they have fallen to the predator that roams the sanctuary.
The last leopard census reported 38 of these magnificent yet fearsome creatures in the sanctuary. Over the years, their numbers have dwindled, but those that remain continue to pose a threat to the animals we hold dear.
Losing Buddy has left a void in our hearts. He wasn’t just a dog—he was family, a companion, and a symbol of unspoken love. St. Mary’s will miss him, but the memory of his warm presence and boundless energy will live on in the hearts of all who knew him.
Buddy at one month
Buddy at two months
Buddy with his favourite Ghugadha age 3 months
Buddy at 4 months,
When I visited him in Feb, he almost knocked me down
In Feb when we visited him, He gave chase to a monkey
Jen fed Buddy on her last visit to the school.
I will add the photographs of the other great Danes as soon as I can get them. The ones on my computer have disappeared. Well! that’s Life. One day we all have to go. Till then Adieu!
P.S
I received the news of Buddie's demise on the 9th of July, via WhatsApp. I cursed myself for being invalid and not protecting the love of the family dog. It was just for this very reason that I did not want another dog in the house. I knew I would have to break this heartbreaking news to both Liz and Jennifer. I had already delayed it for two days, but the burden was bearing down on me, so yesterday I broke the news to them. My very being felt a deep void surging through my senses when I witnessed the remorse and sadness pouring out of the two whom I hold dearer than my life. Both mother and daughter could not contain their grief and sobbed their hearts out for losing their beloved dog.
Liz had always been a lover of animals; the number of cats, dogs, street mongrels and squirrels that she has reared over the years has been astounding. Buddy had taken to her like the proverbial moth attracted to the flame. He loved Liz as if there was no other human being so precious to him. She spoilt him to the extent of allowing him to sleep at the foot of her bed. He had become very possessive of her if he did not recognize a visitor. He would stick to her side like a bodyguard. The shower and affection given to this dog by all the family members were exceptional.
Keith will miss his Buddy boy. He loved Buddy to no end. He’s in school, and I’m sure he must be as heartbroken as the rest of the family.
Buddy at 3 months Dec 2014.
The dogs that became prey to the leopard
- Ceasar last year while on a Jungle walk with boys disappeared
- Bailey was Taken away earlier in the year from the school premises.
- Buddy was taken away on the 5 July 2015 around 3 am.
- Brownie succumbed to the leopard attack on 9 July 2015.
- Shadow, an old male mauled by the leopard on 9 July 2015, recovering.
- Max attacked escaped into the forest and returned later in the day mauled on the head is being treated by the vet.
Flash died earlier in the year of old age.
I took the snaps of the dogs below on 10 Feb 2015. We had gone to the school to see Buddy and were welcomed by the entire pack of dogs. After a while, they busied themselves trying to catch a pair of mongooses that had entered the passage that went out to the back of the school.
Bailey
Buddy
Brownie
On the prowl Brownie, Buddy, Max and Shadow.Bailey the spectator.
Flash.
Will keep you updated if I should receive any news soon.
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