Buddy's Diary - January 16 - Dog Rescue Stories in English

Practice and improve your English with heartwarming stories in simple English

I don’t know what to do to make Girl like me. I just feel… that she doesn’t love me or want me. I don’t know why. Is there something wrong with me? Aren’t I a pretty little puppy, just as lovable as every other one out there? My momma dog loved me.

But Girl… she never smiles at me. Hardly ever. Sometimes, she gives a thin, tired smile and says, “Hey, little one,” and reaches her hand out to pet me. I get so excited and so eager to show how much I love her that I close my mouth around her hand as tight as I can.

But that never makes her happy. Sometimes she shrieks; other times she gives a cry and an unhappy, sobbing sound. She always draws her hands away. Sometimes there are drops of blood, sometimes red marks. I don’t know what’s wrong. I keep trying to bond—so hard.

Whenever she’s near me, I chomp down hard on her hands. She uses those hands to touch me and to hold me. But my paws don’t work like that. I can’t pet her with them; I can just walk on them. So I use my mouth like a hand to grip hers. To hold on tight, tight, tight. So she won’t go away. So she’ll feel how much I love her and want her near me.

But any smile she had for me vanishes when I do that. Often, I am removed from her lap and tied to the white chair. On my own. In my little bed. Off her lap. I feel so insecure at times. I search her face, her eyes. But there is no love, no warmth in them—just a tiredness and sometimes a cold distance.

Almost all day long, all I hear is “No.” Every hour, I pee and poo and there’s a firm “NO.” Whenever I make a mess, she looks irritated at me. And whenever I try to make up for it by gripping her hands firmly (or anything that comes near like her bum or chest) she shrieks and removes me from her. Her hands keep changing colors. First red lines, red holes, red spots. Then white lines and holes. She puts smelly stuff on the bloody holes and scowls at me while doing it. Sometimes she lets me sniff her bloody injuries. I’m confused—why is she bleeding? What hurt her? Nothing makes sense. All I feel is lonely and at times, very, very insecure.

Like today. That was the worst. I was napping peacefully on her lap, deep asleep in the middle of a peaceful dream, when I heard her talking to the big glowing screen.

“I don’t like him at all,” she said. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I should love him, but I don’t. Not a bit. He doesn’t add to my life; he just takes away from it.” Then she hesitated and said something that made my heart leap in terror and jolted me right awake. “I wish he wasn’t here. I wish he’d vanish. Or be someone else’s problem.”

I jolted awake and my head shot up on full alert. I stared at her with big, terrified eyes. You don’t want me? I thought in horror and shock. What’s wrong with me? Aren’t I lovable? She seemed to notice my expression and she looked guilty. But still, there was no love in her eyes.

If you don’t want me… I thought, my little heart pounding like a hammer in my chest and my pulse racing, What will you do with me? Will you throw me out like the first human did??

She looked very tired and unhappy but said in a slow but steady voice, “Don’t worry. I will keep you. I promise I will always ensure you have a safe, good home and food. Not because I like you, not because you add anything to my life or make me happy, but because I chose to take you in. You deserve a home and life not because of what you do, or how lovable you are, but just because God made you, gave you life, and you exist. I’ll keep on suffering if I must. Hopefully, eventually, you’ll grow up and be nicer…” She sighed.

Something about her firm tone comforted me. I searched her eyes, and though I didn’t see love, I believed her. I settled down again, closed my eyes, and went back to sleep. And she kept her word.

The first month was hard.

Eventually, something began to change. I learned to bite more gently. I tried it once on a whim, and her face lit up with a little smile. “That’s a good doggy! Be GENTLE!” she cooed. I didn’t figure it out right away, but the next time I did it again, I got the same reaction. Aha! There’s something that the human likes! I thought.

Then, whenever I would enthusiastically clench her hand in my mouth, she’d grimace, look sad, give a high-pitched shriek, and then say, “Be gentle. Be gentle!” I felt guilty when I saw that sad expression. I didn’t want to hurt her. Eventually, I learned to “be gentle” and bite lightly. She’d purr, coo, pet me, and fawn all over me. It felt good.

Eventually, she began smiling at me more and more, and putting less and less of the smelly stuff on her hands and arms where I had tried to show her my love.

Bit by bit, she began saying soft, sweet things to me and petting me more. I was allowed to nap on her lap for longer intervals, even after I woke up and began being “playful.”

One day, she kissed my little head and said, “I love you, Buddy.” It felt nice. I looked in her eyes and saw warmth—like my momma dog! My heart skipped a beat, excitedly. I gazed at her for a long while, and the warmth remained there. She loves me! She does! I am safe!

I was so thrilled. Then she did it again. And a third time the next day.

Humans like using their faces to show love, I thought. I’ll show mine back! So I leapt up and nipped her nose hard. “OW!” she yelped and pulled away. But the warmth didn’t vanish from her eyes. “Don’t bite my nose,” she sighed. But she wasn’t mad. She smiled and petted my head. “I love you too,” she said.