The swanky glittering red branded wagon on the not so famous roads of Muzzafarpur, all set to conquer its kingdom, zoomed past the old church near the bus station leaving a gust of filth around. As the dust settled and the street came in terms with the newly lifted status of cars on its tarmac, somewhere near the turn past the church, the chill of night accentuated with painful and heart rendering cries of a known voice. “O my God, its Bruno”. I scatted and dodged amidst the horns and screeches of passing by vehicles to see my ten days old li’l pup profusely bleeding, hobbling and struggling to reach the edge of the road. Teary eyed I hugged young Bruno and licked his wounds. Snuggled in the motherly warmth, smeared all over with blood and mud, Bruno lied and the street echoed with his raucous cries. He had been hit badly on his head and leg with the speeding car that just whizzed away. Distressed and helpless to see Bruno’s condition my heart filled with wrath and hatred for the stoic civilized species who did’nt care to slow down for a small puppy crossing the road. I licked and pushed Bruno to help him stand but his body did’nt support and he fell again with weak and diminishing cries. Hoping for a divine intervention in the distant tinkling of the church bell I sat there licking and comforting my Bruno. Onlookers passed by but no one stopped to help a savage street dog and a wounded little puppy. No one wants to own, forget about helping a not so good looking yapper down the road. Shivering in the icy winds as I rapt my Bruno trying to save his few more breaths, I gather even my own life from the atrocities of this harsh weather and envy those classy breeds proudly possessed and flaunted by their owners who come with a silver spoon in this world.
Write Over the Weekend theme for this week
A short story (200-300 words) from an animal’s perspective.
And it won the WOW Badge