This fence is the only place that doesnt chase me away. Sometimes I feel like Ive grown attached
People walked past: some in a hurry, some slowly, but hardly anyone
Ive stopped counting the days. When each one starts and ends the same, numbers lose their meaning. Here, by this rusty fence, morning only differs from evening in how the light falls. Rain and wind have become as familiar as hunger and silence. And yet, I havent left. This fence is the only place that doesnt chase me away. Sometimes I feel like Ive grown as attached to it as I once was to a home. But maybe Im still waiting for what? I dont know.
She sat on the narrow strip of dirt between the wobbly fence and the pavement. Her fur was matted, dull, the mud mixing with rainwater under her paws as the drizzle dripped slowly from the rusted bars. People passed bysome rushing, others slowbut almost no one stopped. If they did look, it was just a glance, tired or indifferent. To them, she was just another stray dog left on the street.
But she remembered another world. A world where mornings began with the smell of toast. A cosy kitchen where shed weave between legs, trying to reach the table. The warmth of the radiator in winter and the sound of her owners laughter when she tripped over her own feet. The gentle hand that would absentmindedly stroke her head.
Things changed, bit by bit. First, just cold, distant looks. Then a bowl left empty more often. Shouting, harsh words, shoves. And one day, she found herself on the wrong side of the doorstep. No goodbye, no explanation. Just the click of the door locking behind her.
I thought it was a mistake. I thought theyd call me back. But the door never opened again.
Life on the street was a harsh teacherlessons learned through kicks and scrapes. She learned to dodge brooms, avoid thrown stones, and scavenge crumbs outside shops. Sometimes she managed to steal a crust of bread or coax a bone from a rare kind stranger. But even then, whenever she caught a passerbys eye, shed hope: *Maybe theyll be the one to say, Come on home?*
That day was cold and damp. Rain had fallen since morning, the wind tearing at the trees. She sat hunched, the chill seeping into her bones. Then she heard footsteps. A woman in a worn-out coat shuffled slowly, as if she wasnt sure where she was going. When she spotted her, she stopped.
Oh, love whos done this to you? she murmured.
*You look at me differently. Not like the others who walk past. Your eyes are warm, like hers used to be.*
The woman crouched beside her but didnt reach out straight away. Slowly, she pulled a piece of bread and some sausage from her bag. Here, eat.
Hesitant, she crept forward, as if the ground might vanish beneath her. She took the food, chewing each bite carefully, half afraid itd disappear. The woman didnt hurry herjust sat there, watching.
Come on, she said softly, almost a whisper. Its warm inside. No onell hurt you anymore.
*Youre calling me But can I believe it? What if tomorrow the door shuts again?*
Still, she followed. The gate creaked as they stepped into a little yardpeeling fence, an apple tree down to bare branches. The house smelled of soup and fresh bread, a scent so sharp with memory she froze on the threshold. The woman spread an old blanket on the floor, poured clean water, and set down a bowl of warm porridge.
This is your home now, she said, gently touching her head.
That night, she barely slept. She lay there, listening to the woman moving aboutthe creak of floorboards, the clatter of pots in the kitchen. More than once, she peeked in, adjusting the blanket and murmuring, Youre home now, hear me?
*Home How afraid I was Id never hear that word again.*
The days passed differently now. Shed wait by the door, bringing her faded old ball. Shed curl up beside the woman as she drank tea, listening to her voice even if she didnt understand the words. Her fur grew soft again, her eyes clear.
Sometimes, passing that old fence, shed pause. Staring at nothing, as if her old self still sat therewet, hungry, lost. The woman would step close, rest a hand on her neck, and say, Come on home.
*Yes now I know where it is.*
