Banda was, by all accounts, a good dog. He didn’t chew furniture, he rarely barked, and he always greeted his humans with an enthusiastic wag of his tail and a wet nose nudge. He loved belly rubs, walks in the park, and snuggling on the couch during movie nights. He was, in his own canine way, a perfect companion.
Yet, a shadow of confusion and sadness hung over Banda. He couldn’t understand why his parents kept talking about sending him to a “rescue camp.” He’d overheard their hushed conversations, the words “we can’t,” “no choice,” and “it’s for the best” floating through the air like ominous clouds.
He didn’t know what a rescue camp was, but the tone of their voices, the sadness in their eyes, filled him with a sense of unease. He’d try to be extra good, sitting patiently by their side, offering extra licks and cuddles, hoping to somehow change their minds.
He’d remember the day they’d first brought him home. He was a small, fluffy puppy then, all clumsy paws and big, brown eyes. They’d showered him with love and attention, teaching him tricks, taking him on adventures, and making him feel like the most loved dog in the world.
He’d replay those memories in his mind, searching for a clue, a reason why things had changed. Had he done something wrong? Had he been a bad dog? He’d search his memory for any misdeed, any chewed shoe or torn cushion, but he couldn’t find anything.
He’d watch his parents, their faces etched with worry and sadness, and his tail would droop. He couldn’t understand why they seemed so unhappy, why they kept talking about sending him away.
He’d try to offer comfort, nudging their hands with his nose, resting his head on their laps. He’d hoped that his presence, his unwavering love, would somehow ease their burdens, but their sadness persisted.
He’d often lie by the window, his head resting on his paws, watching the world go by. He’d see other dogs walking happily beside their owners, their tails wagging joyfully. He longed for that same feeling of security, that same unwavering bond.
He’d think, Why me? Why do they want to send me away? Am I not good enough? Don’t they love me anymore? The questions echoed in his heart, a constant, nagging worry.
He didn’t understand the human world, the complexities of their lives, the difficult decisions they sometimes had to make. He only understood love, loyalty, and the deep bond he shared with his family.
He was a good dog, he knew that in his heart. He’d always tried his best to be a good companion, to bring joy into their lives. He just couldn’t understand why that wasn’t enough. He couldn’t understand why his parents wanted to send him to a rescue camp. The thought filled him with a deep, heartbreaking sadness, a fear of the unknown, and a longing for the love and acceptance he so desperately craved.
