As we were leaving the market one evening, a sight caught our eyes and froze us in our tracks. A dog lay collapsed in front of the library, her frail body pressed against the side of an old electrical cabinet.
We approached slowly. There, in front of us, was a skeletal frame covered in long, matted fur, her breathing shallow, her eyes shut as if every breath was a battle. When she opened them, we saw the truth—one of her eyes was injured, clouded with pain. Her belly, however, was swollen and taut, unnaturally large compared to the rest of her starved body. With experience, we understood immediately: she was pregnant, and due any day.
Yet her body was weak from hunger and cold. When she looked up at us, her eyes spoke louder than words, pleading for help. We rushed to a nearby store, bought what food we could, and hurried back. When we set the bag down, her face lit up with joy. It must have been a long time since she’d had a full meal. She devoured the food quickly, desperate to fill her hollow stomach.
We sat beside her as she ate, whispering comfort. Slowly, trust flickered in her eyes. When we offered to take her with us, she no longer resisted. Gently, we lifted her into the car and drove her home. Twenty minutes later, she lay on a temporary bed we had prepared, finally safe for the night. The veterinary hospital was far, and darkness had already fallen, so we decided she would rest until morning.
That night, however, brought an unexpected miracle. At 2 a.m., cries pierced the silence. She was giving birth. We rushed to her side, helping as best we could. One small puppy entered the world—plump, with soft white fur like its mother. The effort drained her completely. She lay motionless, exhausted beyond measure. We let her sleep while we cared for her newborn.
By morning, her strength had begun to return. She gazed at her pup and smiled faintly, her eyes soft with relief. The little one crawled into her arms, pressing close, and soon both were asleep. To support her, we prepared rich, nutritious meals, ensuring she had enough milk for her baby.
But by midday, her health worsened. Her belly had not shrunk, and she refused to move. Alarmed, we rushed her to the city hospital, leaving the pup at home under our care. Two hours later, she lay on a gurney in the emergency room.
An X-ray revealed the truth: a large tumor inside her abdomen. Our hearts sank. Was it malignant? Would she survive? Tests confirmed our prayers—the tumor was benign. Still, it had to be removed, and soon. The vet examined her overall health. Despite her weakness, she was fit for surgery.
Preparations began at once. Nurses bustled, equipment was readied, and she was wheeled into the operating room. After anesthesia took hold, the procedure began. For two tense hours, we waited, barely breathing. At last, the surgeon emerged: the tumor—2.8 kilograms in weight—had been successfully removed.
She was transferred to a recovery bed, machines monitoring every breath. Gradually, consciousness returned. We stayed with her, unwilling to leave. In our hearts, we hoped she would soon begin a new life, free of pain, with her newborn pup.
Over the next three days, she improved steadily. She sat up, ate, and drank. Yet sadness lingered in her eyes—she missed her baby. We couldn’t let her grieve, so we rushed home and brought the puppy to the hospital. The moment she saw him, her entire spirit changed. She nuzzled him, licking his small body, her eyes shining with joy. That reunion was priceless.
From then on, her recovery quickened. Within days, her smile returned, and her energy grew. Sixteen days later, she had regained 80 percent of her strength. She could walk again, her body heavier, healthier. Twice daily, doctors checked her wounds. The injury in her eye also healed gradually.
Finally, after nearly three weeks, the doctors declared her well enough to go home. With detailed instructions and a small supply of medicine, we carried her back. At home, we prepared a special bed, separate from the others, to keep her safe and clean. We bought her thick bedding, new clothes, and everything a mother could need.
Meanwhile, her puppy flourished. At just over 20 days old, his eyes opened wide for the first time, gazing at the world—and at his mother. His weight had climbed to 0.7 kilograms, healthy for his age. Soon he was crawling across the bed, exploring his tiny world.
Though she still needed our help with feeding, her motherly instinct was strong. She licked him clean, nudged him gently, and never let him out of her sight. We prepared her meals exactly as the doctor instructed, rich in nutrients, so she could keep nursing her pup. Every three hours, we helped her feed him, ensuring both mother and child thrived.
After 32 days, her transformation was complete. All health problems resolved, her body restored, she was strong enough to run again. Her puppy, now walking, scampered after her wherever she went. They were inseparable.
By then, she no longer saw us as strangers. To her, we were family. Her gratitude was clear in her gentle eyes, in the way she wagged her tail when we approached, in the trust she gave so freely. For us, too, her little family had become part of our lives.
At last, she had triumphed. Through hunger, illness, surgery, and despair, she endured. With the fierce power of a mother’s instinct and the support of kind hands, she had overcome every obstacle. Her pup grew each day, healthy and bright, a symbol of her resilience.
Now, when we see her running freely in the yard, her white puppy bounding beside her, we can only smile. Her story is proof that even the most broken can be healed, that even the most fragile lives can be saved when love and determination come together.
We hope her future holds nothing but warmth, joy, and the safety she and her baby deserve.
