The story of these two began as many tragedies do — with human cruelty and indifference. The house was closed, the gate was locked, the owner left. And the dog was left. Pregnant, without a piece of food, without water, without hope. At first, she waited, with her tail between her legs and her eyes on the road. She heard every sound behind the fence, jumped up at every step, as if the owners might return. But the days dragged on, one after another, and the gate remained closed. Then came hunger. The neighbors sometimes threw pieces of bread or potato peelings over the fence. Some felt sorry for her, others, on the contrary, waved their hands: «If she survives — good, if not — then no.» But she continued to hold on. Her belly grew, the puppies kicked inside. Her body weakened, but her heart beat only for them. When the time came, she dug a hole in the corner of the yard herself, lined it with dry leaves. The puppies were born one after another. Cold nights, no food — most did not survive. But this small, warm bundle remained. He clung to her and did not let go.
She was losing weight every day, giving all her milk to the baby. Her ribs were sticking out, her eyes were sunken, her neck stretched out like a taut rope. She fell, but got up again, staggered, but reached out to him, warmed him with her body, licked his muzzle. She held on only for him.
When I first saw them, it seemed to me that in front of me was not a dog, but a shadow. But the eyes… They burned with that very thing we call love. They held the answer to all the questions: «Why are you still alive?» — «Because I have no right to give up.» I leaned over and whispered:
— You will not give up, right?
She looked straight ahead and I heard without words: «I will stand as long as he lives.» I called the shelter. Volunteers arrived. One carefully picked up the puppy and wrapped him in a towel. He didn’t resist — he just squinted from the light, as if the sun was too heavy for his weak body. The mother followed. Slowly, with difficulty, but she walked. They caught her and helped her into the car.
On the way, I heard her hoarse breathing. She pressed her head to the puppy, as if she was afraid of losing him even here, where there was no longer a threat. I thought: «Why do we so easily forget that loyalty is not words? It is the ability to stand even when the world is collapsing.»
At the shelter, bowls of water, soft bedding, and warmth awaited them. The puppy greedily drank milk from a bottle, trembling all over. And the mother looked at him without blinking. Only when she was sure that he was full, she carefully touched her bowl. She took her first timid sip — and it was as if she sighed for the first time in many months.
«What shall we call her?» asked the volunteer. I looked at her thin but proud body and said:
«Strila.»
Only this word could explain how she survived.
The puppy was named Spark. Because he was that little flame for which his mother held on.
Weeks passed. At the shelter, they got their own cage with a blanket, a soft rag, a bowl of water. The neighbors of the shelter brought them treats, children looked in and smiled, seeing how little Player — that’s what they had already begun to call him affectionately — was learning to run.
Strila is still thin, but no longer a skeleton. Her ribs are gradually disappearing under new flesh. Her eyes are coming to life. Sometimes she allows herself to lie on her side and doze off, which she never did before — she always slept half-sitting, alert. Now, next to Iskra, she can relax.
When I visit them, I see Iskra playing with the other puppies, and Sila calmly watching. She trusts the world again. She realized that her sacrifice was not in vain.
Every time I leave the shelter, I think: these two are a reminder to each of us. Even when there is no strength, even when the world has turned away, you can hold on for the sake of someone who is weaker. And this is true love.
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