|This is their home|
|This is sometimes also their home when it is too hot or wet outdoors|
Armed with cans of wet dog food, paper plates and a spoon, I was back at the fruit market during my lunch break the following day. I could hear the men working there whispering, speaking in dialect, staring at this girl (ok, woman), wondering why she was balancing plates of meat in her hands. I didn't care. Within minutes I had found what I came looking for. I spotted a little brown pup that looked like it could have been sired by a bull mastiff, and Blackie, as I had come to refer to her, the pup from the day before (I have no imagination when it comes to names). As they ate heartily, I walked around. Lying quietly in a styrafoam box nearby was another pup. This one had black spotty markings on her brown fur, but that's not what was different about her. She also had one very white opaque eye. She was likely blind in that eye. And she had an injury to her tiny tail. "We put her in there because someone rolled over her tail a few days ago. She doesn't look like she'll last long." They were quite right. She was not in good shape. Skinny with her waist sunken in, she didn't want to eat the canned food but I wasn't about to let her starve so I drove out to the nearest pet shop and bought some replacement milk. To my relief, she lapped at it. I scratched her chin and told her it was going to be alright, that she's going to be ok and that someone cares for her now. She laid her head on my hand, too weak to hold it up for long. My heart broke.
|Fighting for leftovers|
Racing through peak hour traffic, I arrive back at the fruit market, silently thanking the Powers That Be that it had not yet closed for the day. But alas, I was too late. I returned to the styrafoam box only to see it half closed. I see her body in the box, still and not breathing. I felt my heart constrict and fought the urge to cry. I had failed her. In the end, she was not alright and she was not ok, but I hope with all my heart that in the 2 hours I spent with her that afternoon, she felt some love and human warmth before she finally drew her last breath.
|The dead puppy|
Rest in peace little one.
Of all the 7 puppies that were born, 6 have perished. There is just one little puppy living there all by her lonesome self. I have named her Lemon Daisy. Would you please give her a home before she gets hurt too? Read Lemon Daisy's story here.
Written by Michelle Chan