While going to Panjim that morning, we saw a baby goat sitting by the main road and looking around quite placidly. The zooming traffic didn’t seem to bother this kid who seemed quite interested in what was going on. It is unusual to see a baby animal by itself and we would have stopped to enquire if we had had more time. Since we were in a rush, I soothed my conscience by thinking that the owners are probably around which was why the kid was sitting demurely rather than bleating and rushing around aimlessly.
In the evening, as we drove back home, I wondered if the kid would still be there and I knew that if it was still there, we would have to stop and rescue it. My husband and I were quite tired and I was kind of hoping that it had gone home by this time. However, it was still sitting there, exactly where I had seen it in the morning. And now it was bleating as well – I couldn’t hear it over the sound of the traffic, but I could see its tiny mouth open and close continuously as we inched closer to it. Reluctantly I pointed it out to my husband and asked him to pull up. Between us I don't know who has the bigger heart when it comes to animals. I thought I was bad till I met him! I actually prefer animals to humans and so it is natural for me to notice them as we travel each day.
We had to make a steep turn to the other side of the road to get close to the kid. As we brought our Scorpio to a halt, I could hear the piteous bleating and I got down without waiting for the vehicle to stop fully. The kid was wrapped up in some kind of cloth bandages which had gashes of red on them. I was feeling terrible to see the poor mite in such misery. I went up to the kid slowly so as not to startle it. Patidev also joined in and pretty soon we were surrounded by a crowd. We didn’t want the kid to move thinking it to be seriously injured – so we kept our distance and were discussing what to do when a boy pushed through the crowd and reached out and touched the kid. It bleated even louder then, but before we could react, the boy had pulled off the cloth from the goat. We saw with relief that it was snow white with a bit of black on its nose. The boy explained that he had seen the goat in the morning and thinking it would feel cold had wrapped it up in some spare cloth – which had been used to wipe red paint! I guess we are so used to expecting animals to be mistreated, that we had jumped to terrible conclusions immediately.
We discussed with the crowd about the origins of the kid amidst many jokes about tender mutton kababs and the like. No one seemed to know where it came from. On the back of the kid something was written in black, probably with a piece of coal. I was by now cradling the kid in my arms and I tried to read the word, but whichever way I turned, the script was unfamiliar to me. I would have loved to take this little beauty home; only our three dogs would have made all the tender mutton jokes come true.
The only option was to take the animal to the International Animal Rescue Centre and then hope that the owners would come forward to track him. The crowd agreed with our decision and we headed back to our Scorpio. A car slowed down seeing the crowd and then stopped by us and asked us if the kid was ours. We explained what had happened and asked if they knew to whom it belonged. The driver said that he had seen a house with many goats in his colony but couldn’t remember which one it was exactly. He offered to call us the next day with the details as he was headed to the airport just then and could not delay. So the kid, named Pichku, by then by me, was all ours for the evening.
I put him onto the back seat of the Scorpio and offered him some water in a bowl. Thanks to our dogs, we are well equipped to deal with minor animal crises. Pichku sniffed the bowl, turned away, thought better of it and came back for a drink of water. He must have been tired after being out the whole day. I was wondering whether he would eat some biscuits when the input-output process of all babies was completed – he peed on the seat! We had been a little worried about him till then; this simple natural reaction made us burst out into laughter and we were sure he was in good shape. Goats eat anything; Pichku proved this by eating the biscuits and then trying to eat the wrapper. I had to quickly grab it from his mouth and got a bleat of disgust in return.
We dropped him off at the IARC after convincing them that we would definitely come back the next morning for him. In our experience these things always sort themselves out and we were not too worried. There was, of course, always the option of tender mutton kababs!
Sure enough, the next morning, the car driver called us to say that he had found the owners and gave us their address and phone number. We decided to surprise them and land up unannounced. We went to IARC and picked up Pichku who had apparently slept through the night quite peacefully. Pichku again did us the great honour of peeing on the seat. We reached his house and as soon as we opened the car door, he jumped out bleating as loudly as he could. This was obviously a home he recognised. An elderly lady and a couple of children came out and thanked us for bringing him back. She said that the badmaash always strayed from the group, but usually came home by evening.
While we were relaying stories about Pichku, suddenly one of the children piped up, “but can’t you read, his name is written on his back – Afzal!” Another mystery solved and another animal rescued. So life goes on...
13/Feb/2015
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