I hate dogs


I hate dogs. Especially when I see those stray ones on my evening walks in the park. What business do they have in the park, I wonder.

I looked at them with disgust as I passed them every evening. Two or more stray dogs, and I changed my route. It went on for a while as the dogs recognized me every day. And I did not dare step into their territory.

Last month, as I was walking on my regular path, I tripped and fell. It was a twisted ankle and it hurt. I was in great pain and there were tears in my eyes. Suddenly I felt something wet on my feet. I jumped and saw a tiny pup. I looked into those melting eyes. Shoo! I screamed. He was taken aback and scampered away. I somehow made my way back home.

The next day, I hobbled my way to the park. I did not want to break my fitness routine, I told myself. I carried a pack of biscuits along. I would sit on the bench and nibble some, I thought. My eyes searched for that pup. Ah! There he was! I threw a biscuit at him. He happily came and ate the biscuit. I was rewarded with a few licks and a quite a few wags of his tail. As I walked home, he followed me. I shooed him away once I reached my house.

This continued, and soon became a routine. And now, my walks are interrupted with bouts of sitting on the bench and feeding bread and other food items to this pup. He faithfully walks me back home, like a gentleman.

I hate dogs. I thought I was feeding a stray pup. But it was the pup that gave me the sense of contentment. I thought I was a giver, providing him food. But he was the one that was giving me something valuable – unconditional love. I hate dogs. Because this little fellow stole my heart. Now I am adopting him.

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