Autobiography on street dogs
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⭐⭐⭐Survival is the most important thing when you’re alone, with no one else to depend on, whether you’re a homeless person or a stray dog.⭐⭐⭐
⭐⭐⭐I’m an old dog now, content to curl up in my bed by the fire with the old woman in her chair nearby. I feel the warmth on my nose, my tail and my paws, and I remember when I wasn’t warm or well-fed or comfortable. Times when I lived in the woods or in empty doorways, or barns or sheds. Times when I ate from garbage cans or hunted in the woods.⭐⭐⭐
⭐⭐⭐I remember my mother, my brother Bone and my brave friend Moon. I remember other dogs, too, packs of hungry wild dogs who gave me many of the scars I have. And I remember humans, kind humans with gentle hands, cruel humans who threw rocks and chased me, careless, uncaring humans who threw me away. And now this final human, the old woman who cares for me now. We are companions, two old ladies together, warm and comfortable together. And lying here by the fire, I decide it’s time for me to tell my story, the story of a stray, the story of a dog who had to learn to survive on her own.⭐⭐⭐
⭐⭐⭐I was born in an old wheelbarrow in an unused gardening shed in the back of a big house where people lived only in the summer. I had four brothers and sisters, but two were born dead, and another was born crippled, and Mother threw him out of the wheelbarrow. But Bone and I were born strong and when Mother knew we would survive, she gave us our dog names — Bone and Squirrel.⭐⭐⭐
⭐⭐⭐When we were old enough, Mother taught us to hunt and forage for food. She also taught us to avoid humans, because they could be very dangerous. The day I saw a man kill Mine, a fox who lived under the big shed with her kits, I knew she was right.⭐⭐⭐
⭐⭐⭐And then one morning, Mother was gone. Bone and I were alone. We stayed in the old shed for a while, and then one morning Bone decided to leave. I liked the shed, the garbage pile, and the cats and mice that shared the shed. But with Mother gone, Bone was my whole world. I followed him away from our first home. We walked for a long time until the trees thinned and we came to a field and then a highway, with cars rushing back and forth so fast they were blurred. And when there was a gap in the traffic, we could see a paper bag smelling wonderfully of chicken on the other side of the road. Bone was about to dash across when a car suddenly screeched to a stop near us and a man and a woman jumped out and picked us up. Their names were George and Marcy, and they took us home with them.⭐⭐⭐
⭐⭐⭐But we weren’t used to living with humans in a house, and when we messed on the floor, barked at night, and snapped because we were scared, George decided to get rid of us. The next morning, he took us to what I learned later was a mall, threw us out of the window, and drove off. Bone scraped his nose on the pavement, and when I landed hard on my shoulder, I heard a small snap. I tried to get up, but my right front leg wouldn’t work. Bone walked toward me, but two women ran toward us, knelt down, horrified that we’d been thrown away.⭐⭐⭐
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐One picked up Bone, commented on how cute he was and said she was going to keep him. She didn’t take me because I wasn’t as cute and she didn’t want two dogs. The two women walked away, leaving me alone. I never saw Bone again, although I looked for him everywhere. From then on, except for Moon, I was Squirrel alone. ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
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AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF STRAY DOGS
I looked like a ball of brown fur when I was born. My ears drooped and my eyes were black. I was bom in a shed behind the sweet shop. There was no rejoicing, I was just another street dog added to the many others that roamed the streets of the city. I never saw my father but I remember my mother. She looked after us two brothers and a sister-fed us as well as she could. She was quite possessive about us and barked at anyone who tried to touch us. Howeyer, within a few weeks, she disappeared and so did the rest of my family.
Now, that I was all by myself, I began to explore the street I lived on. One day, a little boy called Deepak, picked me up and took me home to his backyard, his parents too, were kind to me and let me stay there. Deepak would play with me. He named me Brownie - due to my brown fur, I guess. Whenever he returned from school, he would come and play with me. His mother gave me the leftovers after their meals and I was grateful. When Deepak would be at school, I would scamper off down the street. I made friends with the other street dogs Blackie, Jacky, Fluffy, Tiger - some were quite fierce and growled at me, but I soon won their affection. We chased the alley - cats and had fun.
One day, when l went back to the backyard, I found different people there. They chased me away, Deepak and his kind parents were gone. I felt sad and dejected. I returned to the street and began to live there. Till today, I think of him.
Some passers by were kind to me, while some kicked me, some thrown stones at me. Some cruel boys tied a tin to my tail! That hurt me and I howled with pain. But for every unkind person, there are those kind and caring human beings-some other boys, quickly removed that horrid tin from my tail and hugged me. It felt good to be cared for. They made it a habit to give me their leftover tiffin as an affectionate pet when they passed by after school, every day, One day, one of them tied a black collar with a little bell round my neck. I was thrilled!
The pavement is my home now -I sleep with the labourers and rickshaw pullers at night. They throw me bits of food and kind words too. I sit close to them and listen to their talk. I love them and bark loudly at night if I feel someone is trying to harm them or steal their things. They appreciate my faithful nature.
Such then is my life. Would you like to be a street dog?