Buddy's Diary - January 12 (Part 5) - Touching Dog Rescue Story in English

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A Lonely Night

Girl puts down a towel and two little dishes in the laundry room.

“Yours,” she says. And I immediately get it. Mine, I think, over here. Must remember that. And I do. Throughout the day, whenever I’m thirsty or want to rest just for a moment and feel like I have my own little room, I leave her side and rush there, and then nip quickly back to her.

But just to confuse me, when night comes, she gathers up my things and takes them away from there. “Forgot, this room floods when it rains,” she mutters. “Can’t have you here getting wet.”

And that night it pounds. Thunder rumbles, the sky shakes, and the rain pours down like a million buckets emptying themselves ceaselessly.

“Where do I put you that you don’t destroy the furniture while I’m asleep?” Girl mutters, eyeing me warily. “My mom had a puppy and he tore a hole through the couch. Can’t let you do that,” she says, walking around the apartment with me under one arm.

“Well, it will have to be here. You can’t do too much damage here,” she says, stopping at the doorway to the second bathroom. “Plus, until I take you to the vet on Monday, this is the best place to contain you.”

I don’t like the look of the place. It’s small, cold, and lonely. And smells faintly of some unpleasant chemical. She puts a cardboard box in the shower. Puts a towel inside the box. Then she adds my water and food dish. She pets my head, wishes me goodnight, and then walks out, closing the door behind her.

I’m alone. ALONE! I freak out and cry and run to the door. I sit there begging to be let out for ten minutes. Then I stop. I hear her outside, I smell her passing by now and then. She’s there… just not with me. I’ve been locked up. In jail. Away from her. Away from the rest of the home. In solitary confinement. Isolation. Why?

I feel hurt and deeply saddened. I open my mouth… but then I stop. I don’t want to make a fuss. To be thrown out to the street again. So I crawl into my box and lie on my towel. I cry sadly. It’s so lonely here. So quiet. So dark. So scary. Then I curl up and go to sleep. Shivering. Lonely. Scared in the dark all on my own.

Outside, I hear a heavy, pounding rain. Yes, outside on the street would have been worse. I feel slightly—but only SLIGHTLY—calmer and safer here inside. At least… here in this quiet jail room with the four solid walls, no big bad thing can get me. That is a comforting thought. And I finally fall asleep.

I wake up several times, cry feebly, “Momma Dog? Yip? Yap..?” then remembering where I am and what happened, I add weakly, “Human Girl? Are you there?”

I listen to the darkness, wait for a reply, but none comes. I go back to sleep, whiskers trembling. Is the human gone? Will she return? Will I be here all alone, locked up forever? Or will the rising sun bring her back tomorrow?

The next morning…. Finally! To my great relief and joy, the door opens, and there she appears with a big smile. I dash to her, squealing with relief. “You returned! I still have you! I still have a home! I’m free! I’m safe!”

She picks me up and pets me, smiling.

“What a good dog you were!” she says, pleased. “My neighbor said hers cried for a month. Wonderful! You hardly cried at all. Tonight, maybe I’ll be able to sleep through the entire night.”

But then… the next night. It happens again. As she closes the door behind me, I think: Oh no, this isn’t good! If I am quiet and submissive, maybe she thinks I ENJOY being in here! Maybe she’ll ALWAYS lock me up in here on my own! No, no, NO! I can’t let that happen.

I don’t want to live in this horrid, dark, lonely place! I want to be with HER! Wherever it is she sleeps! Why can’t I be with her? I’ll be good. I’ll… try not to pee in her bed. And if I absolutely must, I’ll aim off the edge of it.

Momma Dog always let all of us sleep all over and around her. If that human and I are going to be family now… why can’t we be together at night like a normal family?

Why am I put into a jail room away from her? No, no, no. I CAN’T let this happen. I must resist! If I don’t resist, this will be my fate!

So, tonight, I don’t sleep. And I don’t shut up. I cry. I whine. I howl. I beg. I stop for breath and to listen for a reply, some noise, some grunt, some sign of life. None. It’s deathly silent. I pause, I wait; maybe she doesn’t hear. Maybe she’s too far. I smell her faintly. I quickly ramp it up again—crying, begging, sobbing. Then I rest and listen and wait. Surely…. she has a heart? Surely my cries were heard and will move her? Even a bit? On her feet… towards my door?

Ahhhhh! Finally! There. As silent as a mouse. Late at night. I smell her presence coming closer and closer to the door. I am deadly quiet. I slip out of my box across the room and hide behind the door. Then… creeeaaek. The door slowly opens. I can’t see her in the dark, but I smell her. As quick as a wink, I duck out between her legs through the opening in the door. I wait in the hallway to see which way she’ll go so I can follow her and sneak into her bed.

But something happens. “Where… is she?”

Then — SNAP! A bright yellow light fills the dark night. How strange these human homes are. How night can vanish in an instant and then return again. She looks around and then spots me outside. “Oh no you don’t, come back here! How did you escape?” She catches me and pops me back into my cardboard box.

“I just came…” she opens the window a crack “…because I suddenly feared you might suffocate and die here,” she mumbles and then sneaks out again.

Oh no you don’t!

This time I won’t stop. I cry and cry and then, when that doesn’t work, I begin trying to dig my way out through the door. Surely if I dig at it enough, I will make a hole in the wood and can escape out of it.

That does it. “Don’t do that! You’ll ruin the door!”

Lights snap on. The giant Girl towers over me, frowning down at me. “What will I do with you?”

I leap up at her legs. “Take me into your bed!” I cry.

Then her face lights up. “I know!”

She lets me into her bedroom—hurray! I sniff at the foot of the huge pink bed that towers like Mount Everest above me. Up… there? We go?

Nope. She’s carrying a white chair into the room. She puts it down across from her bed, then she ties my leash to it and puts my little bed under it.

“There, perfect. Now be quiet and go to sleep. I’m so tired,” she mutters and climbs up onto her pink mountain above.

“No, take me up with you!” I beg and plead, pawing at the air, standing on my hind legs, pulling at my leash.

“Go to sleep in your bed,” she yawns.

Snap. Pitch dark again. I quieten down. Obviously, I’m not invited upstairs. I sit still and sniff the air intently. I can smell her. Up there. Near me. Only a few steps away. Okay, I think, I’m safe. She’s near. I’m not alone. If a monster comes and I scream, she’ll save me. And when I need food tomorrow… she’s near. She’ll see me and hear my cries. Okay, okay, I’m safe. My heartbeat slows.

I’m not IN her bed with her—that would be best, of course—but I’m near. Near enough to hear her moving and rustling above, to smell her, and to almost feel her presence. Okay, that’s a compromise I can accept. I close my eyes and fall asleep. No longer alone. No longer scared.