“I stopped counting the days. When they’re the same, when each one begins and ends the same, the numbers lose their meaning. Here, by this rusty fence, morning and evening differ only in the way the light falls. Rain and wind have become familiar, like hunger and silence. And yet I haven’t left. This fence is the only place that doesn’t drive me away. Sometimes I think I’ve become as attached to it as I once was to home. But maybe I’m still waiting… for what? I don’t know.”
He sat on a narrow strip of ground between the sagging fence and the sidewalk. His fur was matted, dull, dirt mixed with water under his paws, and rain dripped lazily from the rusty bars. People passed by: some in a hurry, others leisurely, but almost no one lingered. If they looked, it was only for a second, with expressions of weariness or indifference. To them, he was just another dog thrown out on the street.
But he remembered another world. A world where mornings began with the smell of bread. A small kitchen where he spun around underfoot, trying to reach the table. A warm stove in winter and the housewife’s laughter when he tripped over his own paws. A gentle hand that would simply stroke his head.
Everything changed slowly. First, the occasional cold glance. Then, the bowl, which increasingly remained empty. Shouts, harsh words, pushes. And one day, he found himself behind the door. Without a goodbye, without an explanation. The door simply slammed shut, and he was left outside.
«I thought it was a mistake. I thought they’d call me soon. But the door never opened.»
Life on the streets was a school where lessons were learned at the cost of b.r ∪ises and sc.r αpes. He learned to hide from sticks, dodge stones, and find crumbs near shops. Occasionally, he managed to steal a piece of bread or beg a bone from the rare kind person. But even then, whenever he caught the eye of a passerby, he always hoped: «Maybe this is someone who will say, ‘Let’s go home?’»
That day was cold and damp. It had been raining since early morning, and the wind tore leaves from the trees. He sat huddled, feeling the cold penetrate every bone. And then he heard footsteps. A woman in an old cloak walked slowly, as if she didn’t know where she was going. When she saw him, she stopped.
«My God… baby, who hurt you so?» she said quietly.
«You look at me differently. Not like those who pass by. Your eyes are warm, like those of the woman I once called mistress.»
She sat down next to him, but didn’t touch him right away. Slowly, she pulled a piece of bread and some sausage from the bag.
«Here, eat.»
He stepped forward hesitantly, as if the ground beneath his paws might vanish. He took the food and ate slowly, chewing each bite, as if afraid it would disappear. She didn’t rush him, simply sat next to him and watched.
«Come on,» she said quietly, almost in a whisper. «It’s warm there. And no one will hurt you again.»
«You’re calling me… But can I trust you? What if the door closes again tomorrow?»
He followed her nonetheless. The gate creaked, and they entered a small courtyard. An old, peeling fence, an apple tree of which only branches. The house smelled of soup and bread. The smell s.t ŕuck him so sharply that he froze at the threshold. The woman spread an old blanket on the floor, poured clean water, and set out a bowl of warm porridge.
«This is your home,» she said, lightly touching his head.
That night, he barely slept. He lay there, listening to her walk around the house, the soft creaking of the floorboards, the clink of dishes in the kitchen. Several times, she came in, adjusted the blanket, and whispered, «Are you home, do you hear?»
«Home… How I feared I’d never hear that word again.»
The days passed differently. He began to greet her at the door, bringing her an old, faded ball. He lay down next to her while she drank tea, listening to her voice, even if he couldn’t understand the words. His fur became soft again, his eyes clear.
Sometimes, passing that same fence, he would stop. He would stare into space, as if the old him were still there—wet, hungry, lost. The woman came up to him, put her hand on his neck, and said, “Let’s go home.”
“Yes… now I know exactly where he is.”