Buddy's Diary - January 12 (Part 3) - Stories in English
Practice Your English with Heartwarming Stories told by a Rescue Puppy
Our last outing together
Then out of nowhere—GRRROOOOOWL! A massive white monster with sharp teeth—a dog, my kind, yes, but a friend clearly not—pounces at me. She approaches, snarling, baring her teeth, tail low, head lowered, ready to pounce.
“SHOOO!” the Girl yells, suddenly leaping in front of me and waving her arm threateningly at the dog.
I whine in fear and hide behind the Girl’s legs, hoping she won’t see me there or dare to attack if she sees I’m with A Human. The dog hesitates; it looks at her scowl, it ducks as she waves her arm, and then it respectfully retreats. Tail between its legs, it runs off across the road to the farm where it came from.
“Well, we can’t keep walking here. The cars will get you eventually. Or other dogs,” she mutters, annoyed, looking down at me. Almost like my appearance is a problem. She stands, looking up and down the road. She scowls. She looks at me again. Finally, she says, “Fine, come. I’ll leave you at the park with the police. They can help find you a home.”
I merrily dash after her sneakers once more. Yes, we’re getting closer, I think excitedly. Now she’s doing the Momma Dog act—scaring away Baddies. That means she cares! That means she wants to protect me! That means she’s MINE.
And as we descend the hill towards the park, for a few moments, all my worries seem lighter and less heavy. I look around at the pretty bushes and the trees, momentarily forgetting my trauma and enjoying life for a second or two.
But then—“Oh, hi Wifey! Hubby!” she calls and stops.
WOOF! WOOF! WOOOF!
A big brown female dog who looks similar to my mom, just shorter and far less hairy, comes running up with eager barks and a wildly wagging tail. She knows this human Girl. She likes her! I must have chosen well.
The Girl eagerly greets the brown dog—whom I’ll call Mrs. Dogga. She pets her. She coos. She smiles at her. Mrs. Dogga looks up at her with love and joy. But then... she notices me. A few paces behind. I run fast to catch up with the Girl. I won’t be left out of this meeting! If these are the Girl’s friends, or dogs, that means they’re my family now, too!
I run joyously up to Mrs. Dogga. “Hi, stepmom!” I cry excitedly, and leap as high as I can on my hind legs to lick her snout.
But instantly, something shifts. Her tail drops. A low growl rumbles in her throat. She bends down and stares at me. Sniffs at me. Her eyes fill with jealousy and anger. And something else… deep, deep sadness. She looks up at the Girl.
“It’s not my puppy! Don’t give me that look!” the Girl says. “It just followed me.”
But Mrs. Dogga KNOWS I adopted the Girl. She can sense it all over my enthusiastic little smiling face. She retreats. She won’t let the Girl touch her anymore.
Then up comes Mr. Doggo. He is a black and white spotty one. Dirty. Thin. He limps excitedly across the street towards the Girl. But then he freezes halfway across. He’s spotted me. He looks at me in shock. I try to run towards him, too, but to my confusion, his eyes fill with the deepest sadness I’ve seen. Quiet sadness. Silent, lonely sadness as dark and cold as a rainy night. And a heavy resignation.
“It’s always the cute little ones,” he mutters as he turns, ignoring the Girl’s calls and whistles. “Never me. No one ever wants old, limpy, ragged me.” He limps off across the street back to a small eatery that smells enticingly of chicken.
The Girl calls to him, but he averts his eyes. “I do love you both!” she says in a choked voice. “I just can’t take any of you home!”
“I know you’re taking the little one,” he whispers.
He can’t look at her or me. Head lowered, heartbroken, he drops back into the gutter where he had been resting, turning his back on all of us.
I turn back and rush back to Mrs. Dogga. The Girl pets her, completely ignoring me. Mrs. Dogga’s tail is down. She gives a lame little wag sometimes to show she still appreciates the Girl’s attention, but I see the heartache in her eyes each time she glances my way. I can feel it vibrating out of her fur.
“Why are you sad? Here, let me give you a kiss!” I say, leaping up at her furry brown face. She growls angrily and turns away fast.
Girl pets her and pets her. I start to worry—why is Girl ignoring me so much? I leap up all around Mrs. Dogga, trying to get into Girl’s sight and beneath her hand to land a few pets and acknowledgement of my existence. She quickly passes her hand over me, but withdraws it as she sees Mrs. Dogga flinch and quickly walk away, heart aching.
Girl heads slowly down the road, deeper into the trees. I follow, but seeing that Mrs. Dogga is coming with us, I divide my attention between the two of them. I run around Girl’s feet but get not even a glance. I leap up at Mrs. Dogga, telling her nice things: “You look a bit like my Momma! Will we be friends? I like you! Here, a kiss! Another one! A THIRD ONE!” But all I get is silence and sometimes an angry little growl in my direction or a small snap in the air near my head.
Why don’t any of these three like me? I try harder and just get worse results.
Mrs. Dogga walks slowly, listlessly. She doesn’t let Girl come near her or touch her. But she still follows along. Sometimes, I see her sneak glances at Girl.
“This will probably be the last time we ever meet,” Mrs. Dogga says with a sad little smile. “Because now, you have her. I so much loved all our morning walks. I never dared to dream of going home with you. Because you never invited us. And no one ever does. It was too much to hope for. So I never did. And now I see I was right. It is never us… only the cute little ones.”
And yet, even in her deep sadness, she still casts now and then sad little bittersweet smiles at Girl. “You were one of our best friends,” she says softly. “Thank you for all the happy times we shared together.”
As we wander into the beautiful, sunlit park, Mrs. Dogga comes with us to all of her and Girl’s favorite spots. She looks at each with a sad, nostalgic haze in her eyes. To me, everything is so pretty! I forget about all my worries and leap into bushes, tumble off little rocks, and dig excitedly in the dirt.
Girl reaches to pet Mrs. Dogga, but Mrs. Dogga steps aside; she has already said goodbye. She smiles a sad, salty smile and casts occasional, grieving, knowing glances at Girl. With each moment, she is saying farewell. Trying to treasure the last nice outing together, save it in her memory, and at the same time, say goodbye without breaking.
We walk across a field. A sparkling river rushes by below. I am so happy! I have two new friends—even though neither has shown me they like me yet, I’ve made up my mind that they’re mine anyway. When Girl stubbornly ignores me, I turn my attention to Mrs. Dogga. I won’t stop. I just keep insisting on kissing her. Leaping up at her. Barking in my little high-pitched voice.
Each time, she snaps at me. Growls at me. I back off, then try again. Another growl. She really doesn’t like me. I try to look cute—one ear up, big soft brown eyes fixed on her. I make a big leap. SNAP! Her teeth close by my head. She growls louder. A little frightened, I back off.
But then suddenly—RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR! GROWL!
Out of nowhere, there bursts from the trees a ferocious, towering dog. He is spotty, with huge teeth. He towers double over Mrs. Dogga. His wild eyes are crazed. He charges straight at me.
Oh... another friend of Girl? I think. Not sensing the danger, I run up to him, tail high, eager to make friends. He fixes his dark, gleaming eyes on me. And he CHARGES! Jaws wide open. Ready to tear my head off. Girl yells.
And before she can move—WHOOSH!—something brown streaks in front of me. It’s Mrs. Dogga.
Small but incredibly fierce, her mother’s heart overcome by a sudden protective instinct, she flings herself right into the jaws of danger.
GROWL! SNARL! SNAP!
Her teeth flash in the air. The big Doberman-mix dog leaps back in alarm. Surprisingly, even though she’s small and weak compared to him, her utterly fearless act of motherly protectiveness intimidated him. He turns and dashes back up the hill in fright.
Girl stares at Mrs. Dogga. Mrs. Dogga meets her eyes, with a sad but loving gentleness in them.
“Thank you,” Girl whispers. “That dog… in the past, you used to hide behind me from him! And now… you did that for her?”
“For you. I know she’s yours,” Mrs. Dogga says quietly. “I protected your baby.”
I can’t say goodbye
Time passes. And then… Girl begins to walk away from the park.
I follow, extremely tired by now. I lag behind a bit, but I notice she’s walking slower now, letting me catch up, not trying to outwalk me. She keeps glancing back, and when I get too tired and stop for breath, she stops and says, “Come on.”
We reach Mr. and Mrs. Doggo’s home—the street outside the eatery. Then a small white metal thing drives up and stops. A big, smiley woman inside waves to Girl. Girl points at me and says something. Then, to my surprise, I feel her warm hands under my belly and chest. She picks me up.
Mrs. Dogga’s tail drops all the way; only its tip gives the slightest farewell wave.
As I am lifted into the car, I turn my head and meet her eyes. She has such pretty brown eyes, like my Momma Dog. I look deep into them.
And in that moment, the anger, hurt, betrayal, and jealousy in her eyes fade. They are replaced by a sad but gentle knowing… a moment of soft kindness... compassion... and a faint dog-mother’s warmth in her eyes.
“Like I knew,” she says softly. “You’re going home with her. You’re going to have the life I could only ever faintly dream of.”
She holds my gaze. And for a moment, she is looking at me beyond her own pain, her own shattered dreams, her own misery and the hardships of her street life.
“At least one of us will have a good life,” she says softly, and gives me a gentle smile. “Be blessed, little one. Go live it well.”
And then the door slams shut and we speed away, leaving her behind, standing on the sidewalk, gazing longingly after us for a long time.