March 23. “Button, I was about to ask you if life is one, big sad experience but stopped myself from asking the question as I suddenly realized that we have far more to laugh about than weep.”

“What exactly are you trying to tell me?”

“Shabby died this morning.”

“That’s sad. You had told me some days back that he wasn’t keeping too well.”

“And, all we knew about him was that some consulate family had left him on the streets to fend for himself. We have no knowledge whether that is quite true because that was what we were told. We didn’t know how old Shabby was! We noticed him because he looked different from all the other strays on the road, surmised that he was a pedigree and needed someone to take care of him. We are also ignorant of the fact as to how long he was on the streets eeking out an existence! Was he also a stray since my elder daughter mentioned the other day that she had seen photographs of strays who looked exactly like Shabby?”

“The chapter on Shabby will remain open-ended without us knowing anything about him except for the fact that we found  him, loved him and started taking some care of him by feeding him and calling the vet every time he was unwell.”

“When Shabby breathed his last, Dushtu and Puchku were by his side.”