I've previously mentioned a group of puppies that live on the street behind me. I know it is such a white characteristic of me to pay attention to them, but they are so cute. And despite my fellow volunteer telling me not to touch the dogs around here, I have broken the rule once or twice and scratched the puppies' heads. I mean, they're newly born, so they won't have as many diseases and worms, right? (…I know this is illogical to think. Just let me have it) And since I sometimes give food to the puppies' mom, she has developed the habit of following me around, which in turn means that sometimes I have this dog following me and then a troupe of puppies following her for their milk meal.
I was sitting in bed reading Les Miserables (which can compose another post in and of itself) when I heard the dogs' squeals. Since I have seen persons purposefully poke and hurt the dogs, I have gotten used to it, which is sad once you think about it. I just try to ignore the painful yelps. But this time was so much worse. Painful squelches and moans. They would slowly fade. Silence. And then they would start again in increased fervor.
I got up, grabbed my flash light, phone, keys, scarf, and a knife from the kitchen. (Don't ask why about the last one. But if you have known me throughout my life, you would know my instilled Jason Bourne-ness). I hurried out to where the puppies were.
Too late. I'm not sure how it happened. But a man was shining a light on a dead puppy. Its brothers and sisters were playing/fighting with the body. Its mother was whining.
I could feel the gaze of the man and some neighbors looking at me, wondering why I had gotten up in the middle of my night and in my pajamas to scramble out here. The man tried shooing away the puppies from playing with the corpse.
I just walked back home without looking at anyone. A couple of the adult dogs followed me home.
* I did not take these photos. I took them from the internet, but they do look exactly like the dogs in my neighborhood.
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