And only one girl, about ten years old, was walking home with a backpack containing a bun from the school cafeteria. She stopped. She stared for a long moment. Then she took out the bun, squatted down, and quietly placed it next to her bowl.
The dog raised his head. His eyes were clouded, but at that moment, something resembling life gleamed in them. He tried to lick the bread, but his paws trembled so violently that he fell sideways into the dust again.
The world seemed to freeze. The girl bit her lip, pressed her palms to her face, and began to c.r ɣ. She realized—he might not live to see the morning.
And just when it seemed like it was all over…
…the girl jumped up and ran home. She ran into the apartment, which smelled of potatoes and fresh bread, and shouted from the threshold:
— Mom! There’s a dog d.y ìng there! There, near the barn… He’s sick, he can’t even eat! The mother went out onto the balcony, already wanting to say habitually: «Don’t go near those stray dogs, you’ll pick up something else,» — but then she saw in her daughter’s eyes a despair that could not be confused with a childish whim. And something inside her shuddered.
In ten minutes they were already walking to the wasteland with a bag containing bread, a bottle of water and an old sheet.
The dog was lying there. His breathing was thin and hoarse, but when the girl sat down next to him, he raised his head again.
Mom carefully placed the sheet under his side. The dog was so light that it seemed like you were carrying not a living being, but a shadow.
The road to the vet clinic seemed like an eternity. People looked around, some crossed themselves, some shook their heads, but no one helped. The girl walked alongside and whispered all the time:
— Hold on, do you hear? Hold on, please…
At the clinic, the veterinarian took off his glasses and looked at the woman:
— There are almost no chances. He has been starving for a long time, his body is exhausted. But if you are ready to fight, we will fight together.
They stayed. The hours dragged on unbearably slowly. The dropper dripped, the nurse stroked the dog’s ear. The girl sat on a chair and did not take her eyes off him.
And suddenly, in the morning, when everyone had almost resigned, he did what no one expected: he tried to raise his head and buried his face in the girl’s palm. His tongue, rough and dry, touched her fingers.
It was not just a gesture. It was a choice to live.
They named him Chance.
He underwent a long treatment, relearning to eat, learning to trust. At first he shuddered at every rustle, whimpered in his sleep, but gradually he came to life next to his new family. He learned to wag his tail again, and was once again happy with the sun and warm food.
And only the s.c αrs on his sides reminded him of what he had been through.
But now he was home.
And in the girl’s eyes, every time she looked at him, one thought burned: “If I had passed by then, he would be g.o חe.”
➕
