Every single dog who looked at me that day begged me to notice them, to touch them; And I stood there holding back tears, trying to hold as many of them as I possibly could. It was near impossible to leave each dog as I moved on to the next, my heart broke into a million little pieces each time.
(My tears finally fall, after what seems to be the nth time they almost did today.) There were so many, 170 to be precise, pit-bulls big and small, wounded and healing, with one thing in common: the experience of being at the receiving end of the worst in man.
There were no more words as I walked through the Batangas relocation site that housed endless rows of dog cages. I did not, do not understand how someone could do this to these gentle, gentle animals. Goldie, a young, golden brown pit-bull stretched happily, leaning the weight of her body towards me as I stopped at her cage and held out my hand. She had wonderful, hopeful brown eyes.
But then, there were the dogs who sat in the corner of their cages watching, not moving. We walked by, the curious guests and they were still; with a tired, defeated slump in their backs, they sat unmoving, transfixed. Those dogs had the saddest eyes.
They all need love, and all in exchange for that very same thing.
Let us not be the unwilling fools who refuse to help these animals whose love and loyalty remain after all else fails. We were ignorant to their plight once and the damage has been dealt.
Damage that only we can reverse.
handled by CARA and IRO