Would You Leave a 2-Year-Old Child in an Unknown Place?
Then why do it to me?
An
Untold Story of a Forced Relocated Street Dog:
“In
a town where no one knows me… I am alone.”
I
had a life.
It
wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t safe.
But
it was mine.
I
was sleeping under the old neem tree near the tea shop. It smelled like home -the
ground, the food scraps, the hands that sometimes fed me, even the barks of
other dogs I’d grown up knowing.
I
was just a dog… but I belonged.
And
in our world, belonging is everything.
Then
one day, everything ended.
They
came.
They
had ropes. Nets. A van. I didn’t understand. I wagged my tail -half trust, half
fear , because I didn’t know how else to
beg, the way we do when we’re unsure.
But they
didn’t see a friend. They saw a problem.
Then
they grabbed me.
I
fought, but my voice was lost in the chaos. I peed in fear. My body shook. They
tied me up and threw me in the van. Other dogs were inside - wide eyes, silent
panic, desperate breathing. The smell of terror. The press of bodies. No air.
No escape.
No
one barked. That’s how scared we were.
Only
one thing in common - we were all trembling.
In
our world, silence means terror.
The
van moved. The air was heavy with stress- the smell of it, the way our eyes
darted at every bump and stop. We didn’t know where we were going. For us,
routine is security and safety, this was pure chaos. No familiar sounds, no
smells, no humans we trusted.
After
what felt like hours, they let us out.
Not
home.
Strange
place. No landmarks. No scent trails. No known food source.
No
humans who knew us.
No
pack.
Our
world is built on scent, territory and memory.
All
of that gone. Just like that.
I
circled, trying to orient. I whimpered. I searched for corners that might feel
like shelter. I barked - calling out. No answer.
I
walked. I got chased by dogs that saw me as an intruder. I tried to eat from a bin,
a stone hit me. I limped with pain and hunger,
for days. My stomach growled more than I did.
No
water. No food. No familiar paw steps.
At
night, I curled up tight, not to sleep,
But
to survive.
Sometimes
I hear a scooter that sounds like the tea masters. My ears perk up, my tail
lifts - maybe it’s him? Maybe he came for me?
But
it never is.
You
think I’m just a dog.
But
I remember.
I
remember who fed me during festivals.
Where
I drank water when the sun was cruel.
Which
streets kept me safe.
Which
voices meant kindness.
I
remember who I was
Even
if you forget me.
You
took me from all of it
And
dropped me in a place that had no memory of me.
I
still lie under a tree, but it doesn’t smell like home.
The
world feels bigger, louder, colder.
But
I am no longer living.
I
am only not dead yet.
So please...
Don’t
treat me like trash.
I’m
not a burden.
I’m
not a mistake.
I’m
a living being
I
feel. I remember. I grieve.
Don’t
tear me away from everything I know.
You
stole my place in the world and left me to fade.
Because
without care,
Without
kindness,
Without
the simple right to exist in peace…
I
disappear.
Silently.
Slowly. Alone.
So,
I ask you…
Would
you leave a 2-year-old child in an unknown place, alone, without help, without
love?
Then
why do it to me?
For Animal Liberation,
Dr.Vijayapriya
Executive Director
SCAN FOUNDATION
