<p>Few escape the lure of having pets during their childhood, and my children were no exception. I had curbed their enthusiasm to be pet parents for a long time. Despite my persistent refusal, the boys managed to sneak in parakeets, coloured chicks, pigeons, a quill, and a cat from time to time. But I would have nothing of it. </p>.<p>One day, we found two small squirrel cubs that had fallen from the rainwater duct running down from our terrace. Of course, my children found them and brought them home. My 'no' didn't work this time as my wife vetoed me and sided with the boys.</p>.<p>She was equally fascinated by the squirrels, and the three enthusiastically tended to them. She helped my children feed the cubs by squeezing cotton dipped in milk drop by drop into their mouths. The effort was not futile, and the cubs survived. While watching over the cubs and tending to them, my wife also used them to blackmail my children into running small errands, completing their homework on time, and so on. And there was peace at home as 'you scratch my back and I scratch yours' worked well for children and their mother.</p>.<p>Now the two cubs were well acquainted with the home and the people. They were found everywhere in the house. We were habituated to checking the cushions before sitting on the sofa, so as to make sure they were not trampled underneath. Except in the kitchen, they were with my wife wherever she was—while she prayed, recited the Quran, or went about her household chores, they used to be on her lap or besides her squatting, wrapped in a part of her sari or dupatta.</p>.<p>As the time passed, the cubs abandoned the box meant for them with cosy cotton laid out for their comfort and started occupying the adjacent space of my son’s pillow. They started going out and coming back after some time. Slowly they advanced and went out in the morning and returned in the evening. One fine day, one of them returned and the other didn't.</p>.<p>My people waited for it to return, but in vain. The other one returned dutifully every night and scratched the window pane to be let in. On getting an entry, it went straight to my son’s pillow to rest after a hectic day. Gradually, its returns became sporadic and then stopped completely. For a long time, my family awaited its return. In fact, my son kept the window open, expecting the squirrel's return. I could see they missed the little creatures, but no one discussed them and kept silent. Their absence created a void that stayed, but we never had a pet at home thereafter.</p>
<p>Few escape the lure of having pets during their childhood, and my children were no exception. I had curbed their enthusiasm to be pet parents for a long time. Despite my persistent refusal, the boys managed to sneak in parakeets, coloured chicks, pigeons, a quill, and a cat from time to time. But I would have nothing of it. </p>.<p>One day, we found two small squirrel cubs that had fallen from the rainwater duct running down from our terrace. Of course, my children found them and brought them home. My 'no' didn't work this time as my wife vetoed me and sided with the boys.</p>.<p>She was equally fascinated by the squirrels, and the three enthusiastically tended to them. She helped my children feed the cubs by squeezing cotton dipped in milk drop by drop into their mouths. The effort was not futile, and the cubs survived. While watching over the cubs and tending to them, my wife also used them to blackmail my children into running small errands, completing their homework on time, and so on. And there was peace at home as 'you scratch my back and I scratch yours' worked well for children and their mother.</p>.<p>Now the two cubs were well acquainted with the home and the people. They were found everywhere in the house. We were habituated to checking the cushions before sitting on the sofa, so as to make sure they were not trampled underneath. Except in the kitchen, they were with my wife wherever she was—while she prayed, recited the Quran, or went about her household chores, they used to be on her lap or besides her squatting, wrapped in a part of her sari or dupatta.</p>.<p>As the time passed, the cubs abandoned the box meant for them with cosy cotton laid out for their comfort and started occupying the adjacent space of my son’s pillow. They started going out and coming back after some time. Slowly they advanced and went out in the morning and returned in the evening. One fine day, one of them returned and the other didn't.</p>.<p>My people waited for it to return, but in vain. The other one returned dutifully every night and scratched the window pane to be let in. On getting an entry, it went straight to my son’s pillow to rest after a hectic day. Gradually, its returns became sporadic and then stopped completely. For a long time, my family awaited its return. In fact, my son kept the window open, expecting the squirrel's return. I could see they missed the little creatures, but no one discussed them and kept silent. Their absence created a void that stayed, but we never had a pet at home thereafter.</p>