Spice of Life

Born in the slums I was brought up by my uncle in the city. That’s where I realized that the world was too harsh for the good ones.
My mother had died two months after my birth. I had two brothers who got lost while we came to the city. I found my uncle begging for food and people ignoring him. I saw my aunt eating rubbish from the garbage where mosquitoes roamed day and night. I lost my childhood or say…puppyhood… in the city. I was just four years old when a boy bought me home but due to his mother’s refusal of keeping a street dog, he left me back to my destiny.
I remember catching a thief once. Well, the story goes on like this… On a very fine morning when I was enjoying the fresh air I saw a man running with a briefcase. It’s not that I had never seen a man with a briefcase but running with a briefcase in the early morning and that too from nobody, was absurd, so I started to follow him. A poor boy saw me running and started to follow me. Later, he informed the police and the smuggler was caught. I was very happy when the poor boy received a gold medal for bravery and I was even happier when he hung a handmade medal on my fur coat. I felt proud and all the dogs saluted me.
Now that I am old, nobody cares about me. I am left all alone with a medal still by my side waiting for death to come.