Little White Dog

Everyday, when I walk home from the subway station, I’d see this little white dog lying on the ground. Its nose resting on its front paws. It’d stare blankly at the ground without moving. It has accepted the death that is coming and is now waiting for it. It lays in front of its owner’s shop, still loyal, even after being abandoned. I see no kids playing with it, nor do I see the owner talking to it or caressing it. There is no sympathy from anyway towards it. So I stopped my footstep and stood there. It raised its head to look back.

At that moment, our souls touched. We understood each other. In his eyes I saw, the center of his life. The life force that makes him happy. The companion he is with, as if being together is the meaning of life. But that has passed and now there’s just him. He understands that the past can never come back. He’s life and purpose has been served. Now, he’s just left over, a toy that once gave his companion the meaning of life…

We exchanged that stare, but now what should I do next?

To be continued…