My name is Ammu. At least, now it is.
I am thankful for it however. Names can be quite underappreciated.
When I was born, I was without a name.
Ask me what I remember of my puppyhood and you will be met with a stony silence.
I remember too little.
I cannot tell you if I had ever been bathed in the warm kisses of my mother or prodded by the curious nosing of my father.
What I do remember is the dark, cold, cramped cage that I was held captive in for so many long, painful years of my life.
This cage, my home, was where I was forced to eat, sit, sleep and defecate.
For so long, the only interaction I had with humans was with my so-called “master”.
For five years, they kept me alive with food and water, but surviving is not akin to living.
The times that I did dare to hope to get some display of affection from my master were countless.
It did not have to be a belly rub, it did not have to be a light pat on the head, it did not have to be kind words.
All I wanted was just a sign that they saw me as an actual being who could feel pain, who could shower those who loved her with affection, who could be by their side when they themselves were in a cold, dark place.
It was a vain hope.
I was used merely for my body; viewed as nothing but a piece of meat and a means to enrichen my owner.
The fate that befell me is one that I would not wish upon my worst enemy.
Death is kinder.
To be forced to mate again and again, whether my partner and I wanted to or not, whether I was in the condition to have young or not.
And my poor pups…
The only joyous lights in the bleak darkness of misery.
I am sorry. I am so, so sorry.
Every time I brought each one of you into this world, I tried so hard not to think of just how short our time together would be.
Every time I licked and kissed each one of you, I was so fearful that it would be the last time I would be able to do so.
Every time I heard the master’s footsteps, I prayed so hard that this would not be the day when they would open the cage door, toss you all into a box and leave me in the dark, helpless, grieving and alone.
I wish I could have protected you, raised you, taught you the ways of nature, show you that there was more to this world than the confines of our prison.
It is all too late now, I suppose. I pray that you are all well.
Being born out of such dire circumstances cannot be good for one’s health.
In the end, freedom came because I had outlived my usefulness.
I could no longer bear offspring.
My owner tossed me out without a second thought, leaving me to wander in a strange, dangerous world.
If not for the kindness of certain strangers, I am certain my story would have ended in that trailer park.
But fate has a strange way with things.
These strangers took me to their home, where I first came across tiles and grass.
I was terrified to have cold, clean tiles beneath my feet. To feel blades of grass gently brushing against my paws.
I feared to be left in the dark. To be left alone and abandoned again.
These strangers were patient; they knew it was not my fault.
They took me to a doctor where for the first time in my life, I was given my medical necessities.
Voice for Paws let me live once more.
I got hugs, kisses, toys, good food, clean water, long walks and finally a clean, comfortable and safe place to sleep and call home.
Belly rubs and hugs, love and care, that was all I ever wanted and what I have now.
Take my story as a plea, as a warning.
Do not let another dog suffer what I suffered.
My agony was prolonged with each human wanting yet another purebred Great Dane to have at the end of their leash.
End the cycle.
Adopt, don’t shop.
Event: Adoption Drive by Voice for Paws
Time: June 22, Saturday, 1.00 – 5.00pm
Location: The Square, Jaya One
- Donate rice/kibble
- Adopt an animal
- Take photos with the animals
- Cuddle and play with the animals