By Subhadeep Sahoo X f 41

. Subhadeep Sahoo

The story is written by Mr. Gavin Maxwell. Gavin used to live in acottage in Camusfearna in the West Highland in Scotland. It was a verybeautiful place, where he used to live. He had a dog, but after the death of his dog,he felt very sad to keep another one. But when he moved to Iraq, he happened to see another animal - an otter, you can see the picture of an otter right here. Whathappens next, is there in our story. I would be signing as the author himself. You all must be knowing or having a petat your home - a dog, a cat, different animal. You must be knowing that having a pet is not an easy thing. You have to feed the pet, take care of it. It's aserious, full-time responsibility. It's not easy at all. Here the author hastried to express his own feelings about the pet. Now I would be signing the story,everyone watch me. In 1956, I traveled to Southern Iraq. I saw there some Arab people petting an otter. It was such a new animal for me, then I thought ofhaving a otter maybe. One day, I told this to my friend. I was waiting for mymail which was due for a long time. Therefore with a friend, I went to Basrato receive the mail. My friend collected his mail and went away. But my mail wasnot there. I had to wait three days, call England, but telephone was not working, then there were some holidays.Around fifth day, I received my mail. At the same time, I also received a sack by two Arabs in which there was something moving . The Arabs said - 'Here is your otter'.I was happy to receive it. I named it Mijbil. The otter looked like a smalldragon, small Chinese dragon. At first, he was covered in mud and it took a monthto clean him. I brought him home. For the first 24hours, Mijbil was neither hostile, not friendly. He was very quiet, simply aloofand indifferent, choosing to sleep on the floor, as far away from my bed aspossible. The second night, Mijbil came onto my bed, in the morning hoursand remain asleep in the crook of my knees, until the servant brought tea inthe morning. After a few days, he started taking interest, much too keen interestin the surroundings and start exploring it. Then, I made it a body belt for him,for a small body size, and attached a lead and I took him on the lead to thebathroom. If you know otters love water and playing in the water. He also forhalf an hour went wild with joy in the water, plunging and rolling in it,shooting up and down the length of the bathtub, under water splashing, sloshingsame as a hippo. Hippo is a big animal and if you see, when he moves into thewater, all the water comes out. Otter though small had similar effect on the waterand thus I learned a characteristic of otters. In their life, they believe thatevery drop of water must be spread about otherwise it is wasted. A bowl must beat once overturned and and sploshed and until it overflows. Water should not be stagnant, it must bemade to do things, it must be overturned. That means water must be kept on a move all the time, it must work, when static, it is wasted. Two days later, Mijbil escaped from my bedroom as Ientered it and I turned to see his tail disappearing round the bend of thecorridor, that led to the bathroom. By the time, I got there, he was up on the end ofthe bathtub and fumbling at the taps with his paws. I watched amazed, in lessthan a minute, he had turned the tap far enough to produce a trickle of water andafter a moment or two, achieved the full flow and he started playing with thewater. He had been lucky to turn the tap the right way, at later occasion he wouldsometimes, screw it up still tighter and then chittering with irritation anddisappointment at the tap's failure to cooperate. Very soon, Mij would followme without a lead and come to me when I call his name. He spent most of his time playing. Hespent hours shuffling a rubber ball round the room like a four-footed soccerplayer, using all four feet to dribble the ball and he could also throw it, withthe powerful flick of the neck to a surprising height in distance. But thereal play of an otter is when he lies on his back and juggles with small objectsbetween his paws. Marbles were Mij's favorite toys for this pastime. He wouldlie on his back, rolling two or more of them up and down, his white flat bellywithout ever dropping one to the floor. I was staying at Basra but had to move toEngland and then to Camusfearna but the problem was that some of theairlines did not allow transporting animals therefore I had to choose adifferent flight. This was via Paris that allowed animals on board. As a resultMijbil was packed in a box of its size. When I came back, there was completesilence from the box, but from the airholes blood had trickled and dried. Mijbil was all exhausted and bloodspattered. He had torn the lining of the box. It was just ten minutes, until thetime of the flight so I had to act fast. The airport was five miles away, so Ipacked Mijbil into a box and I took a cab to the airport. The aircraft was waiting to take off, Iwas rushed through it by the infuriated officials. Luckily, the seat was bookedfor me at the extreme front. I covered the floor around my feet with newspapers. Then I rang for the air hostess and gaveher a parcel of fish for a Mijbil to keep in a cool place. This air hostesswas very kind, she was the very queen of a kind. She suggested that I might preferto have my pet on me, but as soon as I opened, Mijbil was out of the box. Ina flash, he disappeared at high speed down the aircraft. There were squeaks and shrieks and a woman stood up on his seat screaming out - 'A rat,a rat'. I caught sight of Mij's tail disappearing beneath the legs of theportly, white urban Indian diving for it. I missed but found my face covered in curry. The air hostess said, with the most charming smile, - 'Perhaps it would be better if you resume your seat and I will find the animal and bring it to you.'I returned to my seat. I was craning my neck, trying to follow the hunt, whensuddenly I heard from my feet, a chitter of recognition and welcome and Mijbounded onto my knee and began to nuzzle my face and my neck. Mij and I remained inLondon for nearly a month. He would play for hours with a selectionof toys, ping-pong balls, marbles, rubber fruits and many other different,different items - one Terrapin shell that I had brought back from his nativemarshes. With the ping pong ball, he invented a game of his own which couldkeep him engrossed for up to half an hour at a time. A suitcase that I hadtaken to Iraq had become damaged on the journey back home, so the lid when closed remained at a slope from one end to the other Mij discovered that if he placed theball on a high end, it would run down the length of thesuitcase. He would dash around to the end of the suitcase to catch it by surprise.This was his own idea to remain busy for hours, he would ambush the ball and would never let a fall. This was his own game and like this I saw that he was able toinvent many other games. Outside our house i exercised him on a lead justlike a dog. In London, people did not recognize otters. They used to make blindguesses to recognise the animal. Otters belong to a small group ofanimals called 'Mustellines', shared by badger, mongoose, weasel, stoat, mink and others. All these animals had distinct nose and a tail and that's why the group. They all belong to the same family butpeople used to make random guesses like like calling him a 'baby seal'. You knowwhat a seal is, she lives underwater in cold areas and eats other fish. Someother people called him a 'squirrel'. Have you seen a squirrel? Similar differentdifferent guesses left me in giggles. Somebody even called him a 'hippo'. Really, a hippo! Hippo is so much different, hippo is a bigger animal, this is such a smallanimal. Somebody called him a beaver, someone called him a bear cub, even aleopard. Really, London people have no idea what this animal is! They were notable to recognize him! Someone once called him a 'brontosaur’'. They were notclear about this animal, that's why they gave all these names. London people have never seen such an animal before, nobody called him an otter. The most surprisingevent was once when a labourer was digging his hole inthe street. On seeing the animal he placed down as stools and as I nearedhim this man shouted - 'What is that supposed to be?' looking with big eyes.