In plain words
Where the Kalyāṇa Maṇḍapam now stands there used to be a small mandir. She rested there that night. The driver had his meal and set off for Karnata Nagepalli. I called Jack: “Our man is going. You go along with him,” I said. Jack went with him and lay under the car all that night. The queen had to leave as soon as she rose at dawn, after all! So the driver started the car and drove it a little way forward. He did not remember that Jack was lying under the car's tyre. The tyre went over Jack's belly. With that its backbone broke. It came towards the mandir howling in pain, poor thing!
There was a very trustworthy man here, Subbanna the washerman. Swami was his very life. Morning and evening he looked after the old mandir with care. He came running to Me: “Swami! Jack is coming, howling in great pain. Some accident has happened,” he said. I came out at once. Crying, dragging its legs, it came, fell at My feet and gave up its life. I had it buried behind the old mandir. But I said the grave should be built a little to one side, not in the centre. I said there should be room for a second grave too. Grieving that Jack was gone, Jill stopped eating, and after a few days it too gave up its life. The Bṛndāvanam that stood behind the old mandir is nothing but the grave of those two. In this way Ramesh and Suresh, after such tapas to be with Swami, were born as dogs and reached Prasanthi Nilayam.
‘I will not leave Puttaparthi’
The collar pin slipping off, My giving up school, My parents coming and bringing Me here … On account of reasons such as these, I left Uravakonda. From Bangalore and Mysore, devotees such as Coffee-powder Sakamma, the Maharani of Mysore and Desaraj Urs, the maternal uncle of the Maharaja of Mysore, used to come here in cars.