I saw a stray dog on the street as I was coming back home tonight. He was just beside my car standing on the sidewalk. A young black dog, his black fur and beige coloured legs covered in mud, wet all over. He was taking little steps and then stopping again in daze, certainly not walking. What he particularly did was to look at the people passing by in despair. His black eyes were following the people but then turning away and looking at a distant horizon; seemed like looking for something, or somewhere to go. Maybe he was searching a way home; maybe he was even looking for a home, someone to take him and look after. I felt a sullen mercy. I'd be lying if I say I didn't think to get him in the car for a moment.
What was so striking about that stray dog? That I cannot clearly explain. But, I guess it was the feeling it created in me. The feeling of being lost, the state of looking for a shelter; looking for someone to take me home, wash me, comb me, feed me up... Yes, I was that stray dog that was looking for a direction, a way home, a way to feel safe and sheltered, a way to a happy and bright future. That instant I desperately needed someone to take care of me, to show me the way...
I was that stray dog...
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