I picked him up on a Tuesday evening, just as I was heading home from work. He was lying there by the binsoaking wet, skinny, shaking. Honestly, I just couldnt leave him. I bent down, spoke to him quietly, and he wagged his tail, almost as if he was begging for a chance. So I picked him up, took him home, and dried him off with an old towel. Never thought for a second it would cause such a fuss.
The very next day, the comments started. One neighbour came up and said,
I do hope that dogs not dangerous.
Another called out, a bit too loudly, People are picking up all sorts these days.
But the worst was when the building manager knocked on my door to tell me a few residents were concerned the dog was spoiling the look of the place. I actually laughed in disbelief. Spoiling the look? Hes a living thing, not some tatty bit of furniture.
Then one bloke walked past and muttered, Its no wonder the areas gone downhill lately.
A couple of others complained because the dog had barked oncewhen a biker zoomed past a bit too close. And every time I headed out for a walk, youd see curtains twitch and windows quietly sliding shut. It was like I had a plague on the end of my lead.
One afternoon while I was out with him, a woman came over and told me the dog would bring fleas into the neighbourhood and that I should take him back where he came from. I asked her what she meant by that exactly, and she just shrugged, like the life of an animal was nothing more than an inconvenience to be gotten rid of.
Things got worse when I started finding anonymous notes on my door:
This dog doesnt belong here.
Think of the other residents.
This is a quiet neighbourhood.
They even suggested I was trying to turn the place into a rescue centre.
But honestly, the dog didnt bother anyone. Hed eat, sleep, and look at me with these grateful eyes nobody else seemed to notice. Took him to the vet, gave him a bath, fed him. Day by day, he got healthier, calmer, and stronger. Yet somehow, I found myself painted as the villain on our street.
One neighbour even went around telling everyone I was disturbing the peace. Though, funny enough, when he saw my daughter playing with the dog, he suddenly said, Oh, well, in that case, its fine then.
Thats when it really clickedthe problem wasnt the dog. It never was. The problem was with people who think anything that doesnt fit their idea of perfect has to go. Hypocrisy at its finest.
The dogs still with me now. His names Alfie. Hes put on weight, his eyes shine, and hes finally learned to sleep without being scared. The neighbours dont say much anymore, but they still glare whenever we walk past.
But honestly, Id much rather put up with their dirty looks than let an innocent animal die on the pavement.
