A Dog's Life

He died a miserable death. But then the worse thing that's killing me is that he lived a worse life. Unlike most pets, he wasn't much cherished by many in the family. He wasn't patted day in and day out. He wasn't fed the fashionable foods. He wasn't trained to top agility. He wasn't allowd into the main courtyard of the house. He lived in a largely-dark room outside. Would give you those appealing one-eybrow gazes everytime you pass by his room. And if you happened to call him, he would not jump in joy, because he hadn't much energy left in his last years and also because he was tied up all the time. The only time he was unchained was at nights - to guard the house. That was perhaps the only relation of his being to the family. What a selfish world! He had a programmed schedule to go out. Measured few steps to excrete twice a day, not for enthusiastic walks. And he also took them like a robot - with no heart, though he liked freedom like anyother being. But he didn't fight for it, because he knew wouldn't get it. So he had taken to a sad look, which no one realised was killing him from inside. He would usually sleep all day long, and a cat or a mouse would often tease him for his freedom, rather the lack of it in that dark room, which had turned into the death row cell for him. Not to mention he didn't have an AC in the hot summer nights. The snow-loving Russian breed would sizzle in the dark room under a lazy fan, which sometimes people would forget to turn on.

All said, it reminds me of a desire to live a life like his. Humble, low profile and worthless!

P.S. He died of nervous breakdown on 30th October 2008