The dog was small. Barely the size of a full-grown cat. His fur was shaggy and unkempt, and when he lay stretched out in the hole he’d dug for himself, he looked more like a small beaver.
Except instead of building a dam, he was building a… grave. His own grave. A refuge from a world that had denied him the right to live.
His owner had abandoned him. He hadn’t eaten in days. He hadn’t moved. He was just lying there, nailed to the spot, half buried.
In a garbage dump on the outskirts of town. Where no one cares if a small dog hides from the world.
They say dogs always have hope. But sometimes… even a dog gives up.
The girl who finally found him was named Twilight. She was an animal rights activist and volunteer. She’d known for a long time that there was no more room in the shelters.
The free ones were overcrowded, and the paid ones… well, the paid ones were full of animals no one wanted anymore.
That morning, a friend called her:
– Have you heard about that dog, Twilight? They say he’s wandering around the dump. So… he’s just lying there. He won’t come out to anyone. Lying in the dirt.
– I know, Laci… Hajnalka’s voice was soft. – But where am I supposed to take him? I have four rescued dogs at home. The clinic is full, and so is the foster home.
– Do you want to let him die there? – asked the boy on the other end of the line. There was no accusation in his voice. Only sadness.
Half an hour later, Hajnalka parked at the edge of the dump. The wind swirled dust around her feet as she stumbled, and the smell of burning burned her nose.
Around her, birds chirped, and the occasional rat squeaked among the bags.
Then she saw him.
A small brown-black spot. A motionless body, half-buried in the ground.
-Is that you? -Are you my little one…my little one?
The dog didn’t move. He didn’t look up. He didn’t run away, he didn’t growl. He just lay there.
Many days passed before Twilight gained his trust. Every day she went to him. She brought him water, sausages, canned food.
At first, she placed him at the edge of the pit and watched him from a distance.
On the first day, the dog didn’t eat. Not the second either. On the third day, he looked at the food. On the fourth day, he took it.
On the fifth day, he didn’t move when Hajnalka approached him.
-You’re a good boy, she said quietly. I know you don’t trust us humans. But I won’t let you down.
When she finally picked him up, she was frightened.
-Oh God…- she whispered.- You’re as light as a pigeon…
The dog was skinny, just skin and bones. His fur was ruffled, and his smell pungent.
It was impossible to tell if he was male or female. He didn’t move. He let the girl pick him up.
-I’ll call you…- thought Hajnalka.- Be… Poodle.
The little dog didn’t answer.
-Just in time. Right? In time, you’ll trust me again.
The vet at the clinic just shook his head.
-Twilight, he… this animal has barely eaten in weeks. Look at his fur. His skin is matted. No wonder every movement hurts.
-Can we anesthetize him to remove the fur?
-Yes. But first… I need to examine him. It might be too late.
Twilight stroked the dog’s head while the doctor administered the anesthetic.
—You came from hell, but now something new begins. I promise you.
As the fur fell off, Pooch finally became visible. A small, tiny dog, about five years old. Skinny, but full of life. The doctor shook his head again.
—Twelve teeth need to come out.
—How many more does he have?
—Eleven. But even those aren’t good anymore.
—Do it—Twilight nodded.—Everything. As long as there’s hope, we’ll fight.
After the tooth extraction, injections followed. His skin was inflamed, allergic. Antibiotics, painkillers, vitamins. And, of course, neutering and spaying, like all rescued dogs.
Pötyi still didn’t bark. He wasn’t playing. He was just watching.
But he no longer wanted to dissolve into the earth. He no longer waited for death.