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Little Hero
  

Little Hero was a young puppy who lived at Wat Wang Pong. No-one will ever know him now. I knew him and still feel sad when i think of him. Such a short life and it all started so happily. It all ended so tragically.

Eight little brothers and sisters were left under a market table. It reminds me of the book Perfume which started the same way, a baby born under a market-table where his mother sold fish. Little Hero was lucky in a way, because he was taken care of by a woman who loved dogs. And the 8 puppies thrived. Other people helped to feed them and take care of them. I made sure they had their vaccinations and were treated against parasites. They did well, under the circumstances. Then I had to go abroad and while I was away, they must have fallen ill. From something they ate, I was told.

Who knows what they died of, but when I came back all of them had died, except for Little Hero. But he might as well have died too, because his end was long and painful. The woman had tried to save him, but she had no money and no time, as she had to keep trying to sell her goods at the market. She handed me Little Hero and said that he had been hit by a car and was obviously in great pain. I took him to the vet and it was really sad to see how he did not even try to examine him. The diagnosis was that he had a broken leg and was weak. He was put on a drip and left to deteriorate. I even noticed how he was given a bath in the morning by the assistant. How is that possible in his condition. After a few days I took him to a veterinary hospital where they put him on another drip, cleaned his wounds properly and tried to set his leg, all at great expense. Two days later I was told that he had no hope. His little bone had started to rot, his system was too weak by then and he was in terrible pain. They wanted me to put him to sleep, in that dreadful environment, with howling and barking dogs all around him, in a metal cage without any loving orĀ gentle touches and softly spoken words to set him free from his suffering. So I lifted him gently and put him on a soft bed in my car and drove him to a lake where I openend the cardoors and let him feel the breeze and sense peaceful nature around him. He did feel it and became less agitated. After a while he slept. I then drove him home where he finally left this world, lying in my car. He died, probably in pain, but he must have heard my voice and sensed that somebody cared for him and I hope he felt secure to finally let go. I do not want any dog to be forgotten when they die.