Autobiography of a street dog

 Autobiography of a street dog 

        Every dog has its day. Though I am approaching the end of my life. I, too, lived twelve full and glorious years which had been full of happiness. before I was driven out into the street.

        My father and mother were both Pomeranians of the seashorehigh breed. We were a litter of three cute white brothers and two sisters and within two weeks we were all sold out for five hundred rupees each. I was singularly lucky in the sense that I have never had to change masters. My master had a large posh bungalow with a beautiful garden around and I had a kennel all to myself though I rarely used it. I had free access to the whole house.  Every evening I was taken out for a walk - sometimes on the sea-shore. There I played with my master's children. Sometimes they threw a ball and I ran and caught it in my mouth. How proud felt when I was patted on my back for this feat! I have earned my keep by being a good watch for dog years. The moment I see a stranger I bark and yell furiously.

        But life is not fun and frolic all along. The most eventful day of my life dawned about five passers-by passer-by ago when the children of the house took me for a walk to the park. They set me free and white I was chasing and barking at a little squirrel, I somehow got lost. A kindly passer by took me to the police station from where I was retrieved by my master. 

        When I became old, I could no longer run fast or bark loudly. I notice watchdog years that the love and affection of all the members of my master's family were gradually waning and finally one night I have driven away into the streets. This was the height of ingratitude on the part of my master. 

        Since then I have been living in the street and leading a dog's life in the real sense of the word. It is a hard struggle for survival. I have lost my former form and have become a lean creature. I am forced to feed myself on bits of eatable from the garbage. I remain hungry for many days. I have to run here and there for shelter in cold and heavy rains.  Now, I know what a dog's life really is but I can't help living it. That's the way of the world. As long as I was strong and useful I was kept and treated well, but no sooner was I weak and old than I was considered useless and therefore driven out considered