Life has changed a lot. Life keeps changing. But, will it be too selfish, to not want this change in certain aspects of my life? Chikoo, for instance. I wish life hadn't changed for him. As I look at him now, calmer, quieter, slower in movements, I wish he had stayed that hyperactive, rambunctious little fellow he was until some years back.
His leaps, his long jumps, would leave the entire house shaken, like an earthquake. The moment he would hear the horn of our car, and I would say,"wait, let me see if it's dad," he would go dashing ahead of me and leap onto the bed, to look out of the window. And, if it was indeed his dad's car, he would make an about- turn, jump off the bed and go bounding towards the door, to keep howling till I opened it, to let him out. Utter chaos would follow till the moment his dad stepped inside the house. And, then there would be another round of jumping in the air, to attract dad's attention, and play with him till he was satisfied.
Nowadays, he does instantly know his dad is home; but, there are no more jumps and leaps on and off the bed. There are mellow yelps, till dad enters. Once he has met his dad with a couple of sweet barks, and dad has patted his head, he goes back to sitting in his place or eating his food, that was lying untouched so far. The love is all there, but the frenzy at meeting dad at the end of the day, is sorely missed. Whining for his undivided attention is very much there, but the chaos, the drama, seem lost somewhere.
I remember the excitement that would follow on being asked if he wanted to go for a walk. He would run into the bedroom, leap onto the bed (yes, THE BED, his favourite piece of furniture), run around all over it, like a tornado, and then leap off it landing straight into the bathroom, which was around seven feet away from the bed. The bed shook with terror and changed it's position everyday as Chikoo jumped on and off it. Climbing on that same bed now, seems a task. No more is there any excitement on hearing the word 'walk'. It's "Hmm, okay, let's go. But, maybe after a while." And,when he is sleepy and wants to climb the bed, he merely goes and stands by it, looking at us with his woebegone eyes, till we help him climb by hauling him up on the bed.
It is bound to happen with age and time and given his ailing joints, but, it leaves me feeling helpless. And, sad, and miserable. But, that's life, isn't it? He will get slower and tired, by the day, and we will be left wondering if we have done our best for him. Or, have we failed him in some way? Did we not do something for him that we should have done right from the beginning? I am sure, his answer will be "No, mum, you did fine. It is my ageing bones, nothing else. Inside, I am still the same. Come on, don't lose heart. Come over here and pat my head. Yes, tickle me right there, behind the ears. Ah! how I love it, mum!"
Life. I don't like it when it changes so.