We gave in to Dumpy’s insistence on getting a pet in the summer of 1999 and requested my friend Ramesh in Nagpur to search for a purebred black Labrador puppy. We soon found out from him that a Labrador mother had given birth to a litter of six puppies in a well-known kennel in Nagpur. The puppies were about five weeks old at the time. Puppies around 8-9 weeks are the best age for adoption because they can overcome the stress of separation from their mother and bond with their new human family. However, the kennel owner was eager to sell the puppies. He told our friend that he did not want to wait so long. We had no idea what it meant to get a puppy that was much younger than the recommended age at the time. Tito was only six weeks old when we purchased him for Rs. 7,000/- under duress from the kennel owner. The family tree printed on Tito’s birth certificate established him as a purebred Labrador Retriever. Tito was the son of Zico (father) and Maya (mother).
On July 8, 1999, Tito rode a bus from Nagpur to Ahmedabad with Harish, who worked at my friend’s. For the trip, Tito was placed in a cardboard box. Two seats on the bus were reserved for Harish and Tito. Harish used a dropper to feed Tito water and milk throughout the 24-hour journey. At each stop, Harish would replace the soggy newspapers that lined the bottom of the box with dry newspapers. He’d also used a cloth to dry Tito before putting him back in the box. Despite this, a faint smell emanated from the package. Harish had to endure disapproving looks from his fellow passengers, especially when the bus was overcrowded, because standing passengers were being denied a seat in addition to having to bear the smell. When a weary Harish reached Ahmedabad, Tito resembled a malnourished oversized mouse. His eyes were barely open. The trauma of the adventure had left its mark on the young life. We were worried that he might not survive the trauma. He drank some water but only a little of the milk provided to him. We placed him in a round wicker basket on a bed made of soft cotton sheets. He promptly closed his eyes and curled up like a ball before falling asleep.
Much to our relief, Tito made it through the challenging first night. Next morning, Dumpy, who generally woke up much later than us, was already up. When he lifted Tito to see if he was okay, Tito promptly urinated on the sheets. That was Dumpy’s first experience of pet peeing. He rushed into our room to tell us what had happened. I had some experience with dogs as pets. “Well, we got him on your urging,” I said as we changed the sheets, “so you’ll have to learn how to care for him, including cleaning his poop and pee!” Dumpy promised to look after Tito.
Knowing us, several of our friends assumed that Tito was named after Marshal Tito of Yugoslavia, one of the architects of the non-aligned movement. No, the Marshal did not inspire the name! Tito was named after a frizzy-haired eight-year-old boy we had met at our friends’ (Varsha & Mahendra) house in the United States a few months ago. He was a friend of Parag, their son. His mother had instructed him to count slowly till ten whenever he felt like crying. We noticed that when he accidently hurt himself while playing, he would sit down and start counting slowly (till ten), and at the end of the count, he would be fine, forgetting to weep. We hoped that by naming him after the boy, our Tito too would be able to overcome the trauma and the difficulty of being separated from his mother.
Tito’s condition improved dramatically in just a few days. He grew accustomed to our presence and our handling of him. He began drinking milk on a regular basis and soon began wiggling his tail. He captured our hearts and became a new member of the family.
