I am a street dog, destined to live and die horribly – no matter how many years I have to live my life is bound to be borne of strife and misery – so much so that, I know even death will be no exception to the type of life I have to spend.

In the colony where I live, I often see some of the very lucky colleagues of mine the same class, the same pedigree, living lives of luxury. They move about in cars with their heads held high in the air, they eat the best of food, they are fondled and cajoled but all this can only be a dream for my next life. My present life is a sad and unhappy commentary of a daily routine.

I live on the roads, whether it is the biting cold of the months of December and January or the scorching heat of May and June. Throughout the year I live on the roads, sometimes taking shelter from extreme weather conditions under parked cars or some other covered spaces.

The day flies off looking for food and when I am abused by human beings I feel so very dejected and wonder why I do not have any self respect, and just die of hunger rather then live a life of abuses. Why do I snatch food why do I beg man for food? Oh! Not that I love to do this but, just because, this is the only way for me to survive and live the life given to me, or rather condemned to by God.

ADVERTISEMENTS:

Whenever I fall ill – there is no saving as, who is to take care of me – in reality when I am ill, I am as if a danger to man. A sick dog as I hear is a danger to the health of man and, so, when I am ill instead of being treated, I am shunned by man all the more – what a tragedy life is for me.

Very often it is health only that gives me a lot of trouble but, where can I go for help or support? It is not the same for me as it is for the lucky colleagues living in mansions. If they even so much as sneeze or miss a meal, they are lovingly taken to a veterinary doctor, given medicines worth hundreds, and I often see them coming back normal, rejuvenated and healthy. How can I or my class of street dogs ever expect such great luck? We are, as I am, destined to live on the road and die on the road, unheard and unsung.

Even as a street dog, I have also had my hey days when I was young and energetic, and I could fend for myself. Now that old age is picking up on me, it is very difficult for me to get even a few morsels to stay alive.

However, who wants to live this miserable life, I only pray to God to help me out of this disgusting life and may be I could pray to God to grant me a better life next time.

ADVERTISEMENTS:

I can vouchsafe that a street dog is the unluckiest creature God has created and I feel highly demoralised and depressed seeing the plight of my other brethren who are all ailing and hungry. The street is our house, our shelter, our place to live and die – isn’t it something to be unhappy about?