It was either a fresh breeze brushing against me or the sound of shutters opening and closing. This was my life.
The world is either scared of me or comes to me to pet me. On good days, I am fed with different food, but above all, I have no complaints about the life I live.
I am a dog, after all. I don’t have a family and live on the streets. I wander around the market in Laitumkhrah, but not to cause trouble—just to look at the hustling, bustling market.
Let me tell you of the day that made me feel so warm, that made my tail wag, and when I had never felt so much love like any other.
One day, as I crossed the road, a car clashed with me, and my paw was a little injured. I couldn’t walk around like I usually do, so I only rested in the corner of the tea shop where I lay on a daily basis. I wanted to walk, to run behind the trucks and feel the sun along with the fish vendors, but my paw did not let me.
I need not worry about food, as the tea stall vendor would feed me during the day, and for the night, well—I just slept without eating.
One day, I heard a voice—a little boy and a girl both saying, “Charlie, Charlie!” I recognised those voices. It was the two siblings who once helped me remove a plastic bag stuck on my tail. They had named me Charlie, and I had forgotten that, always living nameless.
They called me out and were petting me. As they caressed my fur, the little girl looked at me and said, “I was looking for you, and I didn’t see you. I was worried, so my brother and I took on the adventure of looking for you.”
My eyes teared up, and I was so happy.
That particular day, the fish vendor, beside whom I sat, also came and fed me some gills. He told me to get better soon so I could give him company. The Kong who sold fruits also stopped by and said she was glad to see that nothing had happened to me. She gave me a packet of biscuits and smiled at me. The man who would purchase a number of cabbages looked at the corner, and when he saw me, he shouted and laughed, saying, “I thought that car had injured you badly!” He genuinely laughed and said, “Get better soon, so I can listen to your bark and feel the lively environment again.”
As I rested there, feeling weak and forgotten, the warmth of their smiles and laughter made my heart so warm as though it was wrapped around a blanket. In that moment, I realised something—I was never truly alone. The market I wandered every day, the streets I called home, were filled with people who cared in their own small ways.
With each passing day, my paw healed and I regained my strength.
And I finally, as I walked the market again, following my daily routine but this time things felt different as this time, I wasn’t just a nameless dog in the streets. I was Charlie. I was loved.