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originally posted by: tikbalang
I sat home looking at my dog, he was born five years ago in country called Ireland.. No one knows his past i adopted him from a shelter, his eyes told me a story i would be willing to listen to.. He was born, born with instincts, just like his parents were born with their sharp senses..
Most dogs in society will never likely use them, nor will learn how to use them.. Its how our society breed them, its genetics and nothing more..
In society my dog was born as a failure, a failure of a system providing no more than its intent.. The only reason he might have survive was because he learned fear at an early age, maybe just like his parents did..
People flocked around my adopted dog, and said;" Sit ". And so he sat, cause he knew he might get a treat.. I looked at my adopted dog and thought;" You learned tricks for someone else and their amusement "..Could i blame them? No, not really.. Most people can barely take after themselves, how about another specie?
But my adoptee survived the long winters and the hot summers, until a man caught him and sentenced him to death.. This dog who survived on its own for years, sat in a cold cellar on a concrete floor with wooden walls.. Listening to the sharp howling sound of dogs being put to sleep.. Those five days and nights probably still lie somewhere deep down inside his mind..
A friendly hand stretched out, it wasnt mine, i wasnt even near.. It was someone who loves dogs more than she loves life itself. She looked at him and said;" You are in the wrong place". A call was made for me and explained;" I found you something special! ".
A few days later i stood there, he looked at me and wagged his tail.. I crouched and let him near, i dont know if a tear fell.. He pushed his body into mine, maybe hoping i would never let go.. I gently stroked him with my right hand, gave a kiss on his forehead and whispered into his ear;" I will name you Ben ".