A life of a stray.
Born not into bloodlines of pedigrees only a stray I am Dirty, ticks infested, mad, dangerous, unworthy even comes into mindwhen one sees a stray/strays roaming around.
How many times do we try to understand or even take a second glance at them?
Tortured and Abused, heavy vehicles colliding into them (not tomention hit and run), starvation, eaten by foreign workers these strays are susceptible to the above and far more.
Rummaging thru rubbish bins for leftovers, the prize for the day?
Perhaps a chicken bone or some decaying meat.
Quenching their thirsts, they turn to muddy flower pots/ drains or even rotten fluid flowing out from the rubbish container.
A bittersweet sight to behold: the pitter patter of rain brings joy tothem as they lick off dew droplets from the leaves.
Have you tried to look deep within those tough, fearless, attitudesthese strays always portray?
Look harder and you will find one of the most sincere and unconditional love these strays will give; if given a chance.
The harsh reality fact is; sadly most of them don’t get to express it out.
With a simple plea to just perhaps live life a day more, would take twice/ three times more the effort compared to a lived in house dog.
A permanent solitude to call home seems like a fable told; only to beunfolded in dreams.
Would you care to make this dream a reality?
Would you care to let me walk by your side?
Would you care to make me yours?
I am a stray, love me for who I am and I will love you for who you are.
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