Sound and fury

It is Diwali week and yesterday was D-day for most people in the area where we live. Which would normally mean that the sound of crackers popping and blasting would drown everything that dared to make any noise anywhere. The best fun some seem to have is to tie strings of very loud 'bombs' in a long line all the way down the street or around the apartment blocks. When they go off, the sounds echo along the concrete buildings, deafening all those who live within and many who are outside. Usually, for days before and after the actual festival, the animals are in dreadful shape, barking, mewing, chirping and lowing their agony and fear. And every year the media advises readers how to make life easier for their pets and strays.

Surprisingly, this year, perhaps because of the downslide in the global and thus Indian economy, things have been rather subdued. I did remark about a week ago that the frenzy had not yet begun and it was only yesterday that there was any real fireworks set off. Most of them seemed to be light effects, not so much the noise that we have come to expect. Which was a huge blessing - I could actually hear the late news, while smiling with some degree of pleasure at the fountains of sparks and multi-colour that sprang into the air. The dog who lived downstairs was rather distressed, barking and whining for hours, but mercifully not as long as we are all used to hearing. Today, the air is not as heavy and gritty as it has been in years past, while the roads are far less littered with the debris of the cracker-filled night.

Small Cat had a bad evening, poor baby. The first year she came to us, she was a couple of months old when Diwali arrived. She watched the fireworks with big eyes, cuddled against me or Father and flinching only slightly when something loud hurt her little ears. Last year, she was rather more scared, running under the bed when it got too noisy. This year, she managed fairly well, her eyes going rounder and her ears set back and up when the decibel count reached discomfort levels. Last evening, she had small panic attacks every now and then but, by the time I closed up the house for bed time, she was sprawled in her usual elegance on the living room floor, taking cat naps and demanding that we get lively and play with her. Today, she is wary, but as bouncy and alert as always, wanting to chase and be chased, eating her favourite biscuits and occasionally sleeping deeply in her rather battered but beloved plastic bag.

Even as I complain about the noise and the pollution, I wonder how people with more pets manage. We pamper Small Cat, aware of every twitch of every whisker, concerned about how she is reacting, whether she is afraid, soothing her and coaxing her to be her usual mad and funny self. Leave her alone, behave as if nothing is different from her normal routine and she will be fine, we know, and that is what we did, our antennae at full alert for potential problems. And, hopefully, by next Diwali, Small Cat will have become the brave little warrior princess we know she is.