I am big, fluffy, kind —
born from a mix of breeds.
I haven’t known tenderness in a long time.
I’ve met only sticks and stones.
Once, a small child came —
with kind eyes.
I offered my back for a gentle touch —
and he kicked me in the head with his foot.
What is wrong with you people?
Where does so much cruelty come from?
What bad thing did I, a dog, ever do?
I am a soul of God too!
At home, eight of my children sit hungry.
Their father — a mutt like me — was killed in the river by some boys.
I am a mother. I am alive. I am tender.
Frozen. Not having eaten for so long.
My puppies — half-dead —
living in a cold house —
wait for their mother in an abandoned basement.
It’s damp there. And so frightening.
But I believe that somewhere in this city —
there is one kind Soul.
We will meet her by chance —
one frosty morning.
She will buy a whole pile of sausages,
feed me, pet me,
and say: «Come on, dear — let’s go feed your children!»
I woke up one gentle morning —
to the first rays of sun.
I opened my eyes. I sniffed.
All eight of my fluffy babies —
lying beside me — curled up and warm.
The kind Soul had come.
She stroked my face.
Looked into my eyes with tenderness.
Held me tight in her embrace.
And whispered into my ear:
«Good morning, sweetheart.»
*Tashkent Region, January 2025*