It was two days of driving in really dreary weather. But we reached her place in Brooklyn and dropped her stuff. Finally, said good bye to her as she got ready to get back to her personal life.

Drove back in the rains from Brooklyn in teh dark (this is always tricky for me) and took the car to a gas station near Newark airport. Filled in gas and more importantly cleaned up the car thoroughly with those vacuums at gas stations. Tuey had shed hair all over and it was far cheaper to clean up the car this way than to have to pay the rental car company.

All duties completed. Last step – check into the hotel and then take a flight back home tomorrow morning.

Came up to my room, tired as I mentioned, but also looking forward to going down to the hotel bar, grab a wine and watch the two NFL games going on. Hurriedly dropped the suitcase in the room and started taking out the jackets. But first, of course, started emptying out my pockets on to the table.

The room card, wallet, spare coins, hat… one by one, they started taking their places on the table top. Reached into my last pocket and felt something strange. Or at least unexpected. Quickly brought them out and put them on the table.

Turned out to be a couple of plastic bags. Dog poop bags, to be particular. To be really precise – Tuey’s poop bags.

I could feel a smile come to my face as I stood there flooded by all sorts of emotions. Ever since I had driven them from New York to Atlanta five weeks back, the dog had become a big part of my daily life.

Every morning, after coffee, it was my turn to put on the jacket and take him out for a walk even before any other family member could wake up. That is why, I always kept a few of his poop bags in my jacket pocket.

Rest of the day, he would be a constant companion as I went around with my house chores.

Incredibly obedient and certainly far more submissive than Jay Jay, he wins hearts easily. Adopted from a rescue center fairly late in his age for a dog, he cannot be more grateful.

As I stood there motionless staring at the bags, one by one, so many memories started wafting thru my mind.

That particular way of cocking his head to the left to see who is coming up the stairs…

That patiently sitting down and sticking his neck out when I brought the leash out to him…

That politely getting down anytime he was yelled at not to get on top of the sofa…

That finishing up his meals fast and then waiting near Jay Jay to see if there would be any leftovers…

That beckoning with his right arm and paw moment I would stop scratching his back…

They are all but memories now.

Gaining my composure back, as I walked down the corridor to the elevator bank, I was reminded of an old Hindi song.

It went…

“Na jaane kyun hota hai yeh zindagi ke saath
Achanak yeh mann kisi ke jaane ke baad
Kare phir uski yaad chhoti chhoti si baat
Na jaane kyun”

Roughly translated…

I wonder why this happens to me
Suddenly my mind, after somebody takes leave
Is overwhelmed by tidbits of memories
I wonder why