In the thick of the lockdown a few people turned to animals for reassurance, companionship and love. Noor Niamat Singh compiles accounts of rescued and adopted animals and plants who changed the lives of their human friends.

Have you ever stopped and wondered what a strange creature a human being is? We have little digits growing out of longer digits, we're ornamented with thousands of little ribbon-like strings of dead cells, and most of our sensitive sensing organs are concentrated on one lumpy, bumpy, odd-shaped brain-holding ball. 

How strange it is that our complex optical organs instinctively lock in an adoring gaze with the eyes of another creature, and the muscle that pumps blood pumps faster when the ever-mysterious, ever so subtle presence of love is reflected back to us by other equally strange creatures—fuzzy, four-legged (sometimes even no-legged), salivating.

During this often stressful and transformative year, there's been a deeper yearning to reconnect with ourselves, each other, and even with love for our fellow creatures. This quarantine has found many people adopting pets. We asked people about the bundles of love, licks, and beady eyes that changed their lives forever.

Leo-Astrid comes from a dream

It was February. He made his presence known with a dead pigeon, feathers flying, a fit of coughing. I didn’t see him until a few days later when he dragged a feather and gnawed on it outside my door. The open door was all the invitation he needed as he entered. I had a packet of cat food and I offered it. He ate greedily and flopped around to be petted and left. I woke up at 3 am and he was stretched out next to me in bed, and left without a goodbye. It went on for a few weeks.

I called him Leo-Astrid. Leo because I was besotted with snow leopards. Astrid from a dream in which a ginger held my hands with his paws and told me, ”call me Astrid”. Leo-Astrid held my hands between his paws too, that is, when he was not trying to tear them to bits.

It has been eight months of a forced lockdown with Leo. Eight months that have taught me to take care of a sick and injured cat, of learning to play even when things are tough, of falling and standing stronger each time. I had begun to write a novel early this year and instead I found myself navigating an entirely different plot and I can't say Leo was not the better deal.

—Anuradha Prasad

Remembering Cally

The day we found Cally, we had family over. I gave the small, spindly-legged kitten some food and tried to coax her in, but she was too scared to stay. I asked my cat-crazy nephew to name her, but we mostly called her "my cat."

Lockdown was just about to begin, and the food we put out kept her close. Technically, we were never keeping her. We already had an animal (a rabbit), my parents were not keen on a cat, and she often brought us her prey—sometimes living, cockroaches and rats. But cats have a way of defying rules, and I was very much in love. She was given the concession of staying on our windowsill, but every night I would scoop her up and take her to my bed. As she got older, she snuck out through my window (on the ground floor) like a teenager, but by morning she'd be boring a warm hole in my body. She was my morning routine, a thorough helping of scritches and stroking in the months when mornings had no structure, another start to no end in sight. I was the only institutionally employed person in the house, the others were free and/or continuing their usual routines. My workload varied and involved a lot of scrolling on my phone, which I'd begin in bed. She was my rock, blissfully sleeping on top of me.

When it started raining, it was just another reason to continue to keep her. If she went out and didn't come back soon, I'd be worried, needlessly. But after the rains, the cats around my building dialled up their fights. After a few bad ones, I conceded, we gave her to a foster home. In my small and full house, she was my distraction and the focus of all my attention. I miss every part of her.

– Sabah

Cooks and Tosha and everyone else

It all began when I saw her through the window in my study room. I saw a tiny little creature in the building next to mine barely being able to walk. She would pace around in the building compound with a continuous 'meeee meeee meee' till she got tired and gathered energy for another round of 'meeee meees'. I have had zero experience with cats so I was clueless as to what was to be done. I spoke to a couple of friends who are pro cat mommies and they said I should wait to see if the mother comes by, and that it would be wrong to just assume that she was abandoned and take her away from her mother. I waited for almost 3 days and the mother never came by.

She had a terrible skin infection on her front legs, she had pretty much chewed on them out of hunger, she had a fever and a viral infection. I spent all my time reading up about how to foster a kitten that little. But everything fell into place with the right kind of help. Little tips from how to stimulate a kitten to how to make them burp, to how to hold the kitten while bottle feeding them is something that I learnt in a span of a few days. While all this was happening, I also found a vet close to my house who helped her with her wounds and her fever. 

The reading continued—what the ideal colour and consistency of kitten poop is, how often you should feed a 3-week-old kitten, how to tell the gender of a kitten. I’d set alarms every 4 hours so that I wouldn’t miss feeding her.

There are a lot of things that happened in these 3 months of being a foster mommy. It was an experience that made me realise that I am capable of taking care of someone.

—Tosha Jagad

Maa, me and Charu

My mother and I were never very close, always pushing each other away like the same sides of a rusting magnet. As a child it was a comfortable repulsion, as an adult it was more of an inconvenience.

“Do you like being back at home?” she asked one afternoon while I was licking my fingers after a satisfying meal of pakhala and fish. It was very unlike her and I wanted to tell her how delicious the curry was, but the words clogged in my throat. I simply nodded in affirmation instead.

The silence between us wasn’t stifling, only natural, easy. A subtle realisation that not all kinds of loneliness find remedy in the presence of loved ones.

One routine afternoon, I noticed her silently pulling out weeds from pots, with absolute focus.

Her face was aglow with inner peace, trance-like and surreal. I walked closer, mesmerised. That was when I found Charu, or she found me. I like to believe she did.

Maa looked up to follow my gaze as I picked up a vibrant green leaf with white vein-like patterns and a fragile root that promised immense strength. I felt at peace at once. A sudden feeling of coming home that surprised me.

I looked at Maa and whispered two soft words, “teach me.” She looked at me intently for a few seconds and then gripped my hand and led me into her world.

She spoke for hours about plants and sunshine, of watering techniques and her beloved flowers. Her eyes lit up from within and all the words that were lost between us came pouring from her heart. I smiled and didn’t stop asking questions for hours to follow.

Charu still clutched in my right hand, we planted her in a small pot. Maa taught me how to pot her, water her and take her out for a sun bath everyday. “You have a companion now, a lifelong bond until either of you die.” I thought about our bond and how that had changed as well.

—Bidisha Mahapatra

One, two, three…

When the lockdown started, we decided to expand our feeding routes and include as many animals as we could. What was hard at first, is now a daily, unmissable time with our 40 cats and 12 Gateway dogs.

I still remember, we had just finished feeding, and on my way home in the rain, I met Bo. This little, bony thing, hardly bigger than my palm. Emaciated, soaking wet, she refused to eat. So I picked her up and put her into a little food bowl in my feeding bag cause I was on my scooter, and brought her home with the hope of comforting her. We started her treatment, and before I knew it, my dog Jimmy, and cat Chotu were running around at home with their new sister, Bo.

Only a month later, we found our little black tuxedo, MJ, lost, scared and being attacked by some other cats. The very next day, we found a home for MJ, and they wanted a second kitten. Our feeding route included an orphaned, loner Calico kitten, and so we brought her home too, we called her TY. A week later, the family couldn’t adopt them, and we decided to continue hunting for homes.

A couple months went by, and our lives had become so full of love, with these munchkins. They had all become inseparable and the best of friends. How could we give up any of our new babies?

— Mrinali Vishwanathan

An egg and an orange

Over the years, I have dreamt many ludicrous ideas of what having a dog would be like. Waking up to a long, grey snout staring at me was one of many. My brother and I made countless promises we couldn’t keep; we made the most extreme bargains (in order to convince our parents to buy us a dog). But soon, my parents gave in. We contacted Welfare of Stray Dogs (WSD), a rescue organisation for dogs, to adopt a puppy.

I remember when I heard we were getting a female dog, I was shocked and surprised and startled. I vaguely remember jumping up-and-down on our sofa, filled with excitement, like an overfilled cup. The emotions welled up inside me: I felt like I was at the top of the world. Being the Star Wars fan I am, it was inevitable that the dog be named “Leia.” Hence, the following day, Leia arrived.

I remember when she first howled for attention, my heart broke. It was a musical high pitched noise that compelled me to make her happy. I remember her frequent habit of stealing everything she set her eyes on. I would chase her, but she could always outrun me. I enjoy everything about her, our long strolls at the beach, the way she always runs away with my belongings, how she loves me regardless of the situation.

After having Leia for a few months, WSD reached out to my parents regarding another dog. This is how 5-month-old Luke arrived in our lives. Luke was the complete opposite of Leia; like an egg is to an orange. Luke was extremely timid and nervous. Whenever outsiders enter our house, Leia happily welcomes them, while Luke barks his head off from a corner. I joke, “if I left Luke and Leia on the streets, Leia would live one week while Luke could live for a year.”

In the last 6 months, both of these dogs have made a home in my heart. Who knew it would only take 13 continuous years of vigorous begging and one pandemic to convince my parents to get the two furry creatures I love more than anything else in this world.

—Vivaan Parikh, Grade 8

A little fighter comes home

I never saw him as ‘weak’ or ‘handicapped’ but he was sick at that moment of time. He was this poor, malnourished, palpitating cat who screamed for help.

His ribs were showing not only because he didn’t eat but also because the tire must’ve crushed his bones and there was dried blood that he was trying to clean. Even then, when I used to stroke him it used to feel as if he was petting me rather than me petting him.

His condition demanded all the pampering, the love and care that he deserved in the first place. ’Milkha’ was a spontaneous name after the great Milkha Singh, which I came up with on the third day when we got him, as I never saw him as being weak. On the contrary, I always saw him shooting from this sofa to that and from that to his food when served. He didn’t run like a usual cat—instead he dragged himself with some speed. He was doing great and he slowly became steady on his four legs.  

This lockdown for us is a black and white reality. We all are fighting, learning, trying to seek happiness, see the positive side and keep calm together. For Milkha, he lost an essential part of his life while he was alive. He lived just for 5 months with us and those 5 months were delightful, I'll cherish every moment for the rest of my life. He never seemed unhappy and that’s why I created and manifested so much of hope for him and for us too. I started believing that things are going to be fine one day all because of him. He taught me loads of things and taught me to unlearn many too.

—Vasundhara Arora

Life lessons from Bhukkad

Bhukkad used to loiter around the neighbourhood so I was used to him disappearing for a couple of hours through the torn mosquito net of the window. Just the night before Gandhi Jayanti, Bhukkad came back with severe burn marks and half his stomach flesh torn apart. 

He was in severe pain. He could barely walk. My SO was in town, and she took some time out to make Bhukkad some chicken broth since all I know to cook up is stories and masala chai.

 I still don't know what took over me seeing this helpless animal. What followed was countless visits to Cessna with multiple surgeries to save his life. He's still not 100% recovered (our man had his latest surgery this week), despite the fact it looks like he's already expended 8 of his 9 lives already — he's now safe and is family. 

 As a person who's used to waking up late, even I'm genuinely surprised by the fact that now it's the new normal routine for me to wake up, clean the litter, feed Bhukkad, let him sleep on me again until the daily  calls begin.

 My help quipped one day that 'it's like I have to ask Bhukkad for permission to sweep around him as if he's the owner of the house.’

Seems true. 

—Nikhil Narayanan

Learning to cope with Coco

Coco came into my life about a month after my brain tumor diagnosis, in April of 2020, when the world was just coming to terms with the possibility of an indefinite lockdown. Barely two months old and full of energy, this little troublemaker was a birthday gift, a pick-me-up one at that but within days she herself became extremely frail refusing to eat or drink and her care and treatment took precedence over everything else. The doom and gloom taking over the world outside had made its way into our home, where one us could still cry it out and complain about what hurt, the other simply had to trust the process.  

The growing tumour’s presence inside me was just as inexplicable at the time as Coco’s aggressively spreading sores, that we later learned was a case of ringworm infection. They were passed on to me fairly quickly because little Coco demanded a lot of affection that meant snuggled naps on me, cuddles, kisses and head rubs. Both of us, with our newly acquired lesions and no easy access to doctors prepared for a long arduous summer. Thankfully her ailments were short lived and by June she had almost regained both her losses—of hair and weight. What she hadn’t lost throughout those months was her adventurous streak, curiosity and joie de vivre. I wish I could say the same for myself.  

Our similarities begin and end with our surviving the most difficult months that this year had to offer. Coco has put her difficult days behind her and does not possess the vanity to care about her bald patches or observe the damage her scars have left behind. I now have the responsibility to wear my battle wounds with pride, as a brain tumour warrior. She has a twin, her healthier, magnificent looking and equally loved brother, Kiwi. He instantly steals attention with his lazy walk, bright blue eyes and a glamorous mane, he’s perfect, the Persian cat of everyone’s dreams. 

It amazes me how, regardless of having grown up in the exact same environment, their journeys have been so different. 

—Sumaiya Siddiqui

Overcoming bleakness with Bobo and Esther

For the longest time ever, I have been terrified of cats. When I was a ten-year child, I remember mother cats giving birth on the ground floor of my building. My house was on the second floor. So I would climb the stairs of the adjacent building, run across a common terrace, and come down to my house from the top floor.

It would have made for an inspirational heartwarming read if I told you that it was Bobo who changed my mind about cats the moment I saw him. But that would mean discrediting all the cats I have met before him, who in their own little ways have absorbed some of my fear towards their community. 

I was scared to pick up Bobo’s fragile body in my arms. What if I dropped him and broke his bones? I asked someone else to carry him to my place, where my two and a half years old golden retriever, Esther ruled the land.

She has been the kindest soul I know, who gave up her room, her warm cosy bed to an Indie mama of 6 puppies whom we housed last year—so I knew she would be nothing but gentle with Bobo. Esther sniffed him and within two seconds was cleaning him of all the dirt he was covered in.

 I feel we all navigate the world with an unsaid sense of safety. For instance, tomorrow morning when I wake up, I will have a roof above my head, four pieces of garlic butter bread with some chai and namkeen on my plate, my dog sitting right next to me for a piece of Marie biscuit, my neighbourhood friends waiting for a morning hug! With the onset of the pandemic, this sense was utterly weakened. The world was closing its walls on a minute to minute basis. On days, I could see myself spiral into a never-ending loop.

So when Bobo came, I had two babies who were ignorant of this hopelessness of the world. I had a dog who wanted to help me keep a kitten alive. I had a kitten who wanted to live, against all odds. Both these babies helped me distance myself from a closing world on most days of the lockdown. I could not have asked for more during these bleak months, trust me.

—Nandita Kochar

A little bit of pure joy

Khushi came at a time of transition and adaptation, when life around the world changed drastically, and our mental health was waning. In other words, she couldn't have come at a better time. Anyone could've guessed this, but she was just what we needed. We had talked about a dog in the far future, but of course as soon as we saw her giant ears our eyes lit up. An email was sent to the shelter, the next day we met her, and we officially said, "gimme."

Like every great superhero character she also has a tragic origin story. Born in the streets of Kentucky, USA, she survived and wandered for four months. We can only assume what those days contained. She was scooped away along with her sister at only 16 weeks and shipped to Minnesota, after which she landed in our arms. She was a mystery mutt, but we soon did a DNA test and found that she’s a quarter chihuahua and a million other things. The day we brought her home, July 1, 2020, will remain one of the sweetest and brightest days of our lives.

We call her our little street rat, our little bean sprout girl, our Puppy Sharma, our nangu pungu, our sonu. We croon little songs to her everyday of her life as her tail wags endlessly. We dress her up in little outfits so we can ooh and aww. She used to protest, but Stockholm syndrome goes a long way. She defies all small dog expectations. She is anything but timid and yippy. We couldn't resist embracing her as a spoiled lap dog, though. Some stereotypes exist for a reason, the reason being she's just too cute. Life has changed forever. She has filled our hearts to max capacity. She made a rented house into a home. 

—Dhananjay Muddappa

.

Unlikely besties

We found him as a stranded little kitten in a vent in our society in early May, about the time when the lockdown seemed to stretch on endlessly since it was getting extended countrywide again and again. 

I was under great duress because I was supposed to get engaged, start my MSc, etc. and none of it seemed like it was going to happen. Also, after a long time was I staying with my family so this endless lockdown was also underlined with mild tensions and conflicts.

I already have two indie dogs, one a 1 yo female and the other a 14 yo male. The kitten we found was immediately welcome to our flustered household, and the one to make him feel home almost immediately was my young female indie, Eungeung. Their friendship was one of the most beautiful things we had ever witnessed. 

The kitten was named Pepper but he responded more to Eungeung's name and to us calling the dogs for a walk. He swore by Eungeung's name. Ate what she ate, drank what she drank, befriended those Eungeung befriended. He also shared her anxieties in many ways. He followed her  under the bed when she was scared and steered clear of  people whom Eungeung didn't trust or didn't like. They would chase each other all day and then come to us for a snuggle at night. 

In late October, as our future plans became clearer and started to materialise, he had a fall from our balcony on the 4th floor and succumbed to his injuries. I don't like to think of it like this, but I wish he had been with us not just through the bad but also our good times. It's been very lonely for all of us since he left us. 

—Bhavya Kumar

Nachos changes everything

Yes, I got a pet this quarantine. It's been almost ten years since I had a pet at home. In the beginning I was very worried about the lockdown. Working, eating, and sleeping at home made me so stressed and hearing the news of so many people passing away hurt me. I used to cry for no reason. Although I stayed with my parents, I felt lonely. I have a small circle of countable friends, but how long could I talk to them? Something was missing in my life and I didn't know what to do.

I was sleep deprived, ate too much nonsense and didn't look at myself in the mirror. I cried, cried, and cried. One day my neighbour invited me to a shopping trip in Shivajinagar. It was Sunday and I had nothing to do. I said "yes." While going, she asked me, "do you like pets?"  I said, "yes, I love animals." We purchased a few things and at the end of our trip, she took me to a place where cats, dogs and birds were caged. I felt sad for them. She said, "let's get a dog." I didn't know whether to say yes or no. I didn't know if I was capable enough to take care of a dog when I was crying my life out everyday. She just said, "we are getting it, don't think about it."

We got a sweet dog  home and I fell in love with him. I named him Nachos because I love Mexican food. He just changed my whole life, I would say. When I wake up now, I don't worry about anything, I just search for him and he licks my face and we both are so happy. I give him almost a thousand kisses a day and we sleep together. I feel very content lately. I really don't know what I would have even done if Nachos was not there in my life. 

—Rohini RJ