Proverbs 19:21
"Many are the plans in a person's heart, but it is the Lord's purpose that prevails."
© Caleb Y.Y.
All living beings are born at the expense of someone else's suffering.
Some desire that pain because they hope for the happiness that comes after; others are forced into it, and the reward for that obligation is the punishment of their life. And us, the animals? What can we say about ourselves?
Suddenly, I felt cold. A cold that burned my tiny body. Everything was bright and dry, and an unfamiliar heat ran through me from my little paws up to my head.
An impulse pushed me to move, to push myself into life.
I let out a barely audible squeak, a thread of sound that said, "I'm here… I exist."
New smells surrounded me. My mother, warm and wet, was near. Other bodies like mine were breathing heavily beside her. I tried to move closer, but my paws could barely hold me. "Mom… mom…" I thought, though I did not yet know what that word meant.
Days passed that felt endless. Every moment was cold, dark, and damp, and I barely understood that I had to move and breathe.
One afternoon, after feeding from my mother, I heard human voices nearby, tense and harsh.
—"Diana! Get rid of those dogs!" —the woman shouted, her voice sharp—. I wanted purebred pit bulls, and this dog… this piece of crap…
—"She ran off and mated with another dog."
—"It's your fault! I told you to watch her during her fertile days, Diana, and you didn't!"
My little heart raced. I didn't understand the words, but I felt danger.
Something inside me told me to hide behind my mother's body. I didn't know if it was instinct or fear; I only knew I had to protect myself.
—"Diana! Did you hear me? Get rid of those dogs!" —the woman insisted, her voice cutting through the air.
—"I'll be back in fifteen minutes," —Diana said, sighing—. And she walked away.
A heavy silence filled the place. The earth, the darkness, and the smell of mud and fear surrounded me. I crawled clumsily, blind and trembling, sensing every shadow as a threat.
—"Tsk… Diana this, Diana that…"
—"I'll make a hole in the yard," Diana whispered, her voice trembling—. "I'll put them there and that's it."
I couldn't understand. I couldn't cry out. I only moved, dragging my body, searching for any warmth that remained. I wanted to be loved, I wanted to live… but no one gave me that chance.
The hole was ready. And then, the blows began. The shovel hit the ground hard, moving the earth. Every human movement made me shiver.
—"So noisy! Why don't they shut up? Be quiet!" —Diana shouted, frustrated.
Another hit, another body falling near me. That's when I felt the deepest fear. Blind, relying only on instinct, I crawled closer to my mother's body.
—"Ah, I'm tired… my arms hurt," —she whispered—. "All because of that dog…"
And there, Diana tried to bury me alive. Something burst out of me: a horrible, weak, desperate squeal.
—"Auh… uhh… uh…"
The woman's shadow appeared at the door, swift and firm. Her eyes widened when she saw what was happening.
—"Diana! What are you doing? Are you going to bury that dog alive?" —her shout cut through the air—. "What's wrong with you?"
Diana stepped back, her eyes full of fury and fear. And she let me go.
—"But Mom, you said: Get rid of them!" —she whispered, trembling.
—"What? No!" —the woman shouted—. "Kill them? No! Grab a box and take them somewhere to be adopted. Not like this!"
The atmosphere filled with reproach and tension. I, still behind my mother, trembled and whimpered. Horror consumed me, but I moved instinctively, seeking the warmth of someone who wouldn't hurt me.
The woman leaned over carefully, and I felt her warm hands for the first time.
—"I'm sorry…" —she whispered—. "Forgive my crazy daughter."
The cold began to ease slightly. I didn't understand anything; I only felt the warmth of the human hand, the fear mixed with confusion, and the life that remained in me.
---
The Woman Goes to the Market
The woman carefully picked up the box and headed to the door. Her steps were firm, almost mechanical, while her gaze avoided the box.
—"I'm going to the market," —she said, more to herself than to Diana—. "Clean this up before I return."
She placed the box at the edge of the street, leaving the tiny puppy inside, trembling and blind, as if it were an object. Then she walked away, swallowed by the market bustle, leaving behind a heavy silence and the open box.
You're no longer my responsibility. Good luck.
A little girl walked with her father on the sidewalk when she saw the box. She stopped abruptly.
Hearing a noise:
—"Auh… uhh… uh… (Don't leave me!)"
—"Uhh auh uhhhh"
—"Dad…" —she whispered—. "I think… someone forgot their puppy."
The man frowned, silently watching the woman walk away. He said nothing, his expression neutral and distant, letting the girl make the decision.
—"Wait for me, Dad," —she said—. "I'm going to check."
She ran to the box, and as she approached, she saw the tiny trembling bundle: barely a thread of sound emerging from its body.
—"Auh… uhh… uh…"
Blind and fragile, it tried to move its paws, to touch something that would give it security, but it couldn't lift its snout or see anything.
The girl carefully opened the box lid, and the puppy clumsily tried to reach the warm hand offered.
—"Nun… that will be your name," —she whispered softly.
Seeing that it had been abandoned and that the woman hadn't turned back, the little one squealed again, a trembling sound, trying to touch that warm hand. It filled him with something strange: fear mixed with relief.
The father remained silent, serious, without smiling, letting the girl hold the puppy.
—"It's okay, you can keep it," —he finally said, his voice neutral and distant.
The puppy extended its trembling paws toward the girl, seeking contact, seeking the warmth that promised a different future.
—"Shhh… calm down, little one," —the girl whispered—. "I'll make you happy."
And so, in that fragile and silent moment, the story of Nun began, a puppy who barely understood the world. His paws sought the safety of a human hand, and his heart beat with hope.
But even the sweetest tenderness can be fleeting, and those who give us life do not always walk beside us until the end.