“Oh, he’s so cute,” someone remarked with delight.
“Just look at his angel eyes,” another voice echoed in agreement.
“Mom, can we have it, pleeeease?” the little girl pleaded, her eyes shining.
The creamy pug responded with a joyful yelp, wagging its tail in sheer happiness.
Mrs. Mom, pondering her daughter’s plea, asked, “Honey, do you promise you will take good care of him?”
Without hesitation, the child replied, “Yesssss mom, I’ll! I’ll! I promise!” Her excitement palpable.
Giving in to her daughter’s enthusiasm, Mrs. Mom confirmed, “Alright, then!” She pulled out her credit card, cementing the adoption.
With the deal sealed, everyone went home, their hearts full of joy.
Yet somewhere, far far away, a contrasting scene unfolded. A ghostly, bony figure dragged itself out of a pool of mud, limps towards his refuge, a little mountain of un-removed garbage. Flies are having a gala party at his wounds (stupid dumb mutt, can’t dodge even those childish stones). Someone passes by, turning his eyes away, holding a handkerchief to his nose. Yes, the stench is really nauseating; maybe it’s the garbage, or maybe it’s his wounds, or maybe it’s just the stinking truth of humanity which has conveniently learned to ignore the unwanted.
The pathetically sorrowful eyes of that little puppy await his slow and painful death which is refusing to come until the bitter lessons of non-survival of the weakest are learnt!
Angels, so desperately needed, were sadly missing.
And somewhere…
maybe nearer than we’d like to admit,
inside the somber walls of an orphanage,
a child silently stifled his tears of pain.
Once again, he hadn’t been chosen.
