Today, while walking through a field, I stumbled upon a poor little dog in desperate condition. I have no idea how long it had been tied up here, but the animal was trying to escape the harsh heat of the sun. Once a brave and loyal watchdog, this dog had been discarded and forgotten. Its matted fur, long unwashed and untrimmed, had clumped together, covering its entire face.
I can’t begin to fathom how this dog survived all these days. Starving, it was forced to eat grass and drink rainwater that pooled on the ground. The sight was heartbreaking. I removed the rope from around its neck and brought the dog home. The first thing I did was feed him. He wasn’t used to eating from a bowl, instead nibbling on seeds that had fallen to the ground. He was so gentle and friendly—his long, lonely life had left him yearning for a family.
After he ate, I carefully started trimming the long, tangled fur that had formed patches all over his body. As I worked, his face slowly emerged, revealing bright, shining eyes. Though it was a difficult task, the dog remained cooperative and calm. After 30 minutes, I had restored him to his original appearance.
I then gave him a warm bath, using soap to clean away the dirt. Though he trembled with fear, he didn’t dare show it, afraid that any wrong move might make me hate him and leave him abandoned once again.
This dog, with his wounded, sensitive heart, broke my own. I dried him off while softly talking to him, trying to reassure him. I noticed that one of his eyes looked cloudy, with no visible pupil. This afternoon, I’ll take him to the vet for a thorough checkup. I just hope it’s nothing too serious.
