It all started with the fact that in our cottage village with a mysterious name "India" burned down a sawmill, which was guarded by a shepherd. The sheepdog was sitting on a chain. The sawmill burned down, the owner forgot about the shepherd: she sat tied up among the charred ruins, and quietly starved to death, but she was noticed by the villagers. The information was placed in the local social group. They found angry people, started to feed the dog, which, as it turned out, was on the demolition.
There was no doubt about who the father of future puppies was. From the beginning of the settlement, there lives the dog Baikal. Aboriginal, so to speak. He is believed to be staying with the village guard, but he has never been tied up and runs wherever he likes. He is fed and considered a symbol of India. Such a "sacred cow". Therefore, when six puppies appeared, they moved with their mother to the guards" house, to Daddy"s house and to the guards" dissatisfaction.
It was last year in spring. Puppies were growing up and a cheerful, half-starved crowd was running around the village in search of food and potential hosts. My husband and I didn't take part in feeding Baikal"s offspring at all, I had health problems, and we thought there would be good people in India without us. So when a crowd of cheerful little dogs came into our backyard, we did rush to caress and feed them: we were going to take any puppy. And really kind people cooked food for the whole oak tree, fed it, and then built it up. And so, thanks to a lot of effort, five dog children were put in good hands. There was only one little girl left, who could not find her masters. In the meantime, the shepherd mother died. And this poor thing was hanging out with Daddy on the guard. The men did think she was theirs, they did give her a name, but they fed her occasionally. She grew up in eternal search for something to eat, she learned how to "mouse", the good thing is that in the settlement on the undeveloped areas of field mice - countless. And I grew up, grew up. ..
We have to admit that my husband and I did know about the existence of this dog creature and we did think we"d find out. We found out through a group at WhatsApp. Growing up as an ownerless dog is clear. No one else wanted to raise and build up the dog. The question came to an end: if nobody was ready to take the dog for themselves, they would let it go. .. No one was there, almost everyone already had their own dogs. And somehow very quickly an initiative group was formed, seriously ready to solve the problem quickly. No dog - no problem.
Some people were indignant at such an approach, but were obviously in the minority, as the initiative is punished as usual, and nobody wanted to solve the problem. At this stage, I got involved in this story. The idea that a young, healthy dog is going to take his life, really, outraged me, but I was not going to take it to myself: I was not quite healthy yet, and in general, the dog of my dreams was a papillon! I tried to convince our community that if we all tried together, then one young dog, of course, can be attached. We could convince them, nobody believed in such a possibility. And here"s a strange thing: as soon as you get involved in rescuing someone, even an animal, you"re sucked into it with your head. Recently I did care about this creature, but now it seemed that saving this creature is the most important thing at this stage of life. On behalf of the coalition struggling to save the dog, I asked the community to give me time to organize her fate for two weeks. The answer was pretty tough:
"Take it and build it up as much as you want! I was sitting there smoking like a steam engine".
My husband looked at me sympathetically and asked:
- Marina, did you decide to take the dog? Well, take it that we won"t feed the dog, will we? So we became masters of the "dog in a bag.
The people in the village were glad that everything was so well decided, offering all sorts of help. And my husband and I sat and puzzled, so how do you bring your dog home now?
Read on in the next article.