On two occasions Bruno ate/drank something that should not be eaten and drunk. What happened to him on these occasions?
<answer> Bbruno ate Barium Carbonate which was put to kill the rats and mice. Paralysis set in to the extent that he could not stand on his feet. Once he drank one gallon of old engine oil. But it had no ill effects whatever. <context> 1. I WILL begin with Bruno, my wife’s pet sloth bear. I
got him for her by accident.
Two years ago we were passing through the
sugarcane fields near Mysore. People were driving
away the wild pigs from the fields by shooting at
them. Some were shot and some escaped. We
thought that everything was over when suddenly a
black sloth bear came out panting in the hot sun.
2. Now I will not shoot a sloth bear wantonly but,
unfortunately for the poor beast, one of my
companions did not feel that way about it, and
promptly shot the bear on the spot.
3. As we watched the fallen animal we were surprised
to see that the black fur on its back moved and
left the prostrate body. Then we saw it was a
baby bear that had been riding on its mother’s back
when the sudden shot had killed her. The little
creature ran around its prostrate parent making a
pitiful noise.
4. I ran up to it to attempt a capture. It scooted into
the sugarcane field. Following it with my
companions, I was at last able to grab it by the
scruff of its neck while it snapped and tried to
scratch me with its long, hooked claws.
5. We put it in one of the gunny-bags we had brought
and when I got back to Bangalore I duly presented it
to my wife. She was delighted! She at once put a
coloured ribbon around its neck, and after discovering
the cub was a ‘boy’ she christened it Bruno.
6. Bruno soon took to drinking milk from a bottle. It
was but a step further and within a very few days
he started eating and drinking everything else. And
everything is the right word, for he ate porridge
made from any ingredients, vegetables, fruit, nuts,
meat (especially pork), curry and rice regardless of
condiments and chillies, bread, eggs, chocolates,
sweets, pudding, ice-cream, etc., etc., etc. As for
drink: milk, tea, coffee, lime-juice, aerated water,
buttermilk, beer, alcoholic liquor and, in fact,
anything liquid. It all went down with relish.
7. The bear became very attached to our two Alsatian
dogs and to all the children of the tenants living in
our bungalow. He was left quite free in his younger
days and spent his time in playing, running into
the kitchen and going to sleep in our beds.
8. One day an accident befell him. I put down poison
(barium carbonate) to kill the rats and mice that
had got into my library. Bruno entered the library
as he often did, and he ate some of the poison.
Paralysis set in to the extent that he could not stand
on his feet. But he dragged himself on his stumps
to my wife, who called me. I guessed what had
happened. Off I rushed in the car to the vet’s
residence. A case of poisoning! Tame Bear—barium
carbonate—what to do?
9. Out came his medical books, and a feverish
reference to index began: “What poison did you say,
sir?” “Barium carbonate”. “Ah yes—B—Ba—Barium
Salts—Ah! Barium carbonate! Symptoms—
paralysis—treatment—injections of . .. Just a
minute, sir. I’ll bring my syringe and the medicine.”
A dash back to the car. Bruno still floundering
about on his stumps, but clearly weakening rapidly;
some vomiting, heavy breathing, with heaving flanks
and gaping mouth.
10. Hold him, everybody! In goes the hypodermic—
Bruno squeals — 10 c.c. of the antidote enters his
system without a drop being wasted. Ten minutes
later: condition unchanged! Another 10 c.c. injected!
Ten minutes later: breathing less stertorous—
Bruno can move his arms and legs a little although
he cannot stand yet. Thirty minutes later: Bruno
gets up and has a great feed! He looks at us
disdainfully, as much as to say, ‘What’s barium
carbonate to a big black bear like me?’ Bruno is
still eating.
11. Another time he found nearly one gallon of old engine
oil which I had drained from the sump of the
Studebaker and was keeping as a weapon against
the inroads of termites. He promptly drank the lot.
But it had no ill effects whatever.
12. The months rolled on and Bruno had grown many
times the size he was when he came. He had
equalled the Alsatians in height and had even
outgrown them. But was just as sweet, just as
mischievous, just as playful. And he was very fond
of us all. Above all, he loved my wife, and she loved
him too! She had changed his name from Bruno, to
Baba, a Hindustani word signifying ‘small boy’. And
he could do a few tricks, too. At the command, ‘Baba,
wrestle’, or ‘Baba, box,’ he vigorously tackled anyone
who came forward for a rough and tumble. Give
him a stick and say ‘Baba, hold gun’, and he pointed
the stick at you. Ask him, ‘Baba, where’s baby?’
and he immediately produced and cradled
affectionately a stump of wood which he had
carefully concealed in his straw bed. But because
of the tenants’ children, poor Bruno, or Baba, had
to be kept chained most of the time.
13. Then my son and I advised my wife, and friends
advised her too, to give Baba to the zoo at Mysore.
He was getting too big to keep at home. After some
weeks of such advice she at last consented. Hastily,
and before she could change her mind, a letter was
written to the curator of the zoo. Did he want a
tame bear for his collection? He replied, “Yes”. The
zoo sent a cage from Mysore in a lorry, a distance
of eighty-seven miles, and Baba was packed off.
14. We all missed him greatly; but in a sense we were
relieved. My wife was inconsolable. She wept and
fretted. For the first few days she would not eat a
thing. Then she wrote a number of letters to the
curator. How was Baba? Back came the replies,
“Well, but fretting; he refuses food too.”
15. After that, friends visiting Mysore were begged to
make a point of going to the zoo and seeing how
Baba was getting along. They reported that he was
well but looked very thin and sad. All the keepers
at the zoo said he was fretting. For three months I
managed to restrain my wife from visiting Mysore.
Then she said one day, “I must see Baba. Either
you take me by car; or I will go myself by bus or
train.” So I took her by car.
16. Friends had conjectured that the bear would not
recognise her. I had thought so too. But while she
was yet some yards from his cage Baba saw her
and recognised her. He howled with happiness. She
ran up to him, petted him through the bars, and he
stood on his head in delight.
17. For the next three hours she would not leave that
cage. She gave him tea, lemonade, cakes, ice-cream
and what not. Then ‘closing time’ came and we had
to leave. My wife cried bitterly; Baba cried bitterly;
even the hardened curator and the keepers
felt depressed. As for me, I had reconciled myself to
what I knew was going to happen next.
18. “Oh please, sir,” she asked the curator, “may I have
my Baba back”? Hesitantly, he answered, “Madam,
he belongs to the zoo and is Government property
now. I cannot give away Government property. But
if my boss, the superintendentat Bangalore agrees,
certainly you may have him back.”
19. There followed the return journey to Bangalore and
a visit to the superintendent’s bungalow. A tearful
pleading: “Baba and I are both fretting for each
other. Will you please give him back to me?” He
was a kind-hearted man and consented.
Not only that, but he wrote to the curator telling
him to lend us a cage for transporting the bear
to Bangalore.
20. Back we went to Mysore again, armed with the
superintendent’s letter. Baba was driven into a
small cage and hoisted on top of the car; the cage
was tied securely, and a slow and careful return
journey to Bangalore was accomplished.
21. Once home, a squad of coolies were engaged for
special work in our compound. An island was made
for Baba. It was twenty feet long and fifteen feet
wide, and was surrounded by a dry pit, or moat, six
feet wide and seven feet deep. A wooden box that
once housed fowls was brought and put on the
island for Baba to sleep in at night. Straw was placed
inside to keep him warm, and his ‘baby’, the gnarled
stump, along with his ‘gun’, the piece of bamboo,
both of which had been sentimentally preserved
since he had been sent away to the zoo, were put
back for him to play with.
22. In a few days the coolies hoisted the cage on to the
island and Baba was released. He was delighted;
standing on his hindlegs, he pointed his ‘gun’ and
cradled his ‘baby’. My wife spent hours sitting on a
chair there while he sat on her lap. He was fifteen
months old and pretty heavy too!
23. The way my wife reaches the island and leaves it is
interesting. I have tied a rope to the overhanging
branch of a mango tree with a loop at its end. Putting
one foot in the loop, she kicks off with the other, to
bridge the six-foot gap that constitutes the width of
the surrounding pit. The return journey is made
the same way. But who can say now that a sloth
bear has no sense of affection, no memory and no
individual characteristics?
