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