The street had named him Balma, everyone's beloved. He was left by someone in our street. Too cute to resist, I got him inside my house and gave him some pet food which he devoured. Once I was sure that his stomach was full for the day, i kept him outside on the street again. He yelped like anything, jumping on my door to let him in, but i already had a pet and he was super jealous of Balma. He constantly growled at him and threw me hateful glances for loving a stray pup. I wanted to bring him in, his cries were piercing my ears but i couldn't, i was helpless.

That evening he moved from one house to another, having small bites from our neighbours. His little stomach was bloated by over eating. He paid occasional visits to my house, sniffing around and yelping again to take him in. And then he was brought inside by my husband. As always, he was looking for something to eat but we didn't feed him seeing that it could make him sick. He got used to our house, climbing the stairs after me, loving the rooftop. When left alone, he put his head on the stuff toy and slept peacefully. We kept him that night and it rained so much that night. I felt as if God had sent him for safety and shelter to our house.

The next morning, i woke up early and fed him again. Then i left for work, leaving instructions to my domestic help for him. At work, i was worried if he was alright. I had clicked his pictures and sent to my parents. My daddy showed interest to adopt him and sent for him. That's how he moved from an unknown house to my parents home. Maybe it was destined so. He left and the neighborhood still asks for him, saying that it was a real cute and friendly pup.
© Meenu