The Soul Of Peggy

I visited my friend Sheila in town today. She lives in an assisted-living unit in town with her black cat “Lucky” and dog – “Peggy.” Often, I see her scooting about town. She is a cheerful ex- Liverpudlian with an Irish accent who drove buses in London and later in Australia. Sheila has an appreciation for a well-turned phrase, good songs, a great understanding of their history and subtleties – what she calls ‘trivia.’ It is usually something profound or interesting to me.

As soon as I walk in her door, her dog comes up to me wagging “Hello” to receive a little cuddle greeting. She then goes away and sits down in front of Sheila’s chair.  Peggy is quite old in dog years, but looks quite young for her age.  It is her slow waddling walk that might give her age away. “Lucky” the cat, if she is around and in the mood will come by with her tail up in the air, brush her sides against my leg and having greeted me will walk away and sit next to Sheila’s hand or at her feet or lap.

Sheila always offers and usually makes me a cup of coffee or tea with honey instead of sugar. She is hospitable even as she hobbles around slowly. She has been this way since she suffered a stroke, had an accident and lost some control and feeling on one side of her body. I let her go to some effort to make me a drink, because she has a sweet tooth, has to cut down on sweets because of diabetes and every bit of exercise helps burn some calories. She has a really comfortable reclining chair. When she sits down and leans back on it, the lower-leg support comes up in the reclining mechanism to create a space underneath. If Sheila does not recline soon enough, Peggy lets her know with a pleading/complaining croon. I did not understand what it was about, but Sheila knows exactly what Peggy wants. She is just like a mother who understands her child’s cry and knows what it means. As soon as the space underneath the foot-rest opens up, Peggy crawls into it. Sheila then sits back and lets the foot-rest gently close halfway.

It seems such a dangerous thing, one would fear what would happen if Sheila had to get up and fold the foot rest underneath. It would appear that Peggy could get crushed or mangled in the steel reclining mechanism, but it has never happened. Both Sheila and Peggy have developed an understanding and the fine art of doing this. When she has to get back up and kick the footrest back into position, Sheila calls out to Peggy, lets her come out and then carefully locks the reclining mechanism.

Sheila always regales me with tales of her life in England, her family, her Arab relatives, her school and bus-driver days. She is a passionate advocate of immigrants, those that have shown initiative and courage to try and move beyond their circumstances.

As we chatted today, Sheila smoked. She smokes a fair bit. Then she had to get up to go to the bathroom. She signalled the dog underneath the recliner. She called out to Peggy to come out to prevent her getting crushed. Peggy loves being huddled under, but after a couple of calls, she knows she has to get up. Peggy crawled out slowly.

“She will walk me to the bathroom and back. She’ll see that I am OK and don’t fall,” said Sheila with pride and affection.

Sure enough, as Sheila shuffled along slowly, Peggy walked beside her, not getting in the way and looking very important, serious and responsible. It was a little while before both of them came back with Peggy leading the way and waiting to get back under the recliner.

While they were gone, it struck me. Here was this scruffy little dog who was herself in old age, who had taken it upon herself to do a task, something to help her friend. No one asked her. She came up with it herself. What a kind, loving spirit and an instinct to serve that comes naturally to a creature!  I wondered what motivates her to serve, to help another creature?  Surely, she does it naturally because it gives her a purpose in life?  Don’t we all try hard to find such a purpose in our own lives? We struggle to find something as simple and that good. Other than in the memory of Sheila, no one else might even know about this service, ever. No one might record it, write about it, or erect a monument to Peggy for doing it.

Does she seek an acknowledgement or great appreciation in return? A certificate, medal or salary or reward in return for this task?

When she does get a loving pat or some treat in appreciation, does Peggy ever compare it with what some other dog got from her owner? No! She might get less material stuff in return or even doggy treats like walks or fancy toys as compared to dogs of richer, or more active owner. Peggy gets food, cuddles and affectionate talking to or a pretend scolding.

Does she ever feel jealous? Underpaid in comparison? No! She does not even think about it. For her the pleasure and purpose in life is in the act of caring itself.

When Sheila or Peggy is gone, what is left for Peggy? Does Peggy want to be remembered and acknowledged as an ‘accomplished’ dog? Or care what anyone thinks of her? What is written on her tombstone? Where she is buried? What future generations think of her? There seems nothing  that Peggy will do based on such a desire for ‘immortality’ or being remembered beyond her lifetime. Even in her lifetime, every time Peggy’s presence is acknowledged, she is grateful and shows it. She wags her tail for every cuddle, every reward.

Every living creature on earth finds a task or purpose in life that seeks to serve others. Even humans do, but I am not sure we do with the selfless unvarnished love and the spirit of the animals. I start to wonder, what are the many motivations of humans who serve others? How many of us can do it like Peggy?

Note: I suppose it is because I have never grown up raising a pet that it seems unusually striking to me. Most pet owners seem to have known this all along.


Copyright  (c) Kannan Narayanamurthy 2012

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