2.She lies on the damp grass,
The chain has c.u ŧ into her neck with a tight ring.
The puppies at her c.h ℮st — her quiet «where?»
And a silent cry: «Home! Warmly!»
She no longer thinks about p.a ìn,
If only their breathing would not stop.
And even in a world full of captivity,
Her heart shone for them. Eyes to the sky — with a plea and hope,
T.e αrs tremble, but she is strong.
She lives only for those,
Who sleep near her belly…
She hugs the little ones to her as if she is afraid that the world is about to take away this last wealth. The cold rusty chain w.o ∪nds her neck, leaves b.l σody traces, but she is silent. Because the main thing for her is that the puppies feel warm, that at least a drop of milk satisfies their hunger, that they believe in the life that she, exhausted, is trying to give.
Every morning she wakes up on the damp ground, licks the little ones, checks if everyone is breathing. She knows that there is almost no milk, but she puts her belly up — and tiny pussies, annoying and trusting, find what is still left. Her body is exhausted, her ribs stick out through her skin, but she holds on. Because for her, her own to.r ḿent is not important, but the lives of those who depend on her. People pass by. Someone stops, looks with pity. Someone throws a dry crust. And someone turns away, because it is scary to admit to herself what it is — nearby, and this is reality. But no one removes the ch.a ìn. No one gives her a real chance. She remains where she was abandoned, and the meaning of her days remains her children.
The rains pour down her back, the wind blows through her wet fur, the cold penetrates her bones. But she covers her babies with her body, closing them off from the world, hiding them from pain. When they tremble, she licks their little faces, as if to say: “I am with you. Don’t be afraid.” And when they fall asleep, she looks up at the sky — and in her huge eyes live both fear and hope at the same time. Her story is not fiction. There are thousands of such mothers. They give birth in the mud, on chains, in the cold rain. They themselves are starving, but they take care of their babies. No one feels sorry for them, no one thanks them, but they love them anyway. Because maternal love is stronger than hunger, than cold, than despair.
She doesn’t understand why this is so. Is it her fault that she was born? Can she be blamed for giving life to her children? She asks for nothing for herself. Only one thing: to save them. So that they don’t repeat her fate. So that they have a chance for a person who won’t be.t ŕay them.
Her eyes are a c.r ɣ. They contain a plea: “Please, don’t let them d.i ℮ here. If you pity me, save them. I can disappear, but they must live.” There is no anger in those eyes, only love and fear for the children.
Every day on the chain is a feat. She endures everything because she knows: as long as she is alive, her babies have hope. But her strength is fading. And if she doesn’t make it, if she passes by, tomorrow may be too late.
This dog is not just a “mongrel.” She is a mother. She fights for the lives of her children as only a mother can. And if today there is a person who will remove that rusty chain, who will say: “Now you are free” — her world will change. Her eyes will learn to believe again. And her puppies will grow up not on the cold ground, but in warmth and love.
These photos are not just frames. This is a cry for help. This is life that is happening next to us. And we always have a choice: to turn away or to become the miracle that they are waiting for so long.
She cannot ask with words. But her heart beats in time with the tiny hearts of her babies. And each beat sounds the same: “Help.”
And if at least one person responds — this story will have a different ending. She has a chance. They have a chance. And it is in our hands.
➕
