My Name is Mira

MOTHER, TEXTA AND MARIA

Last time I felt how I felt sleeping in my soft bed at home was five months ago. That's where I decided to go first.
...
I woke up to see a black furry face, its beautiful brown eyes were smiling at me, the way Liza smiled at me tonight. Those eyes made me feel just like I felt today. It used its wet nose to roll me over with one gentle push. I found myself standing on two beige paws. Now I could see that the beautiful face belonged to a grownup Labrador. Her sleek fur was colored in a solid black color, which wasn't the case for me as my paws and brows happened to be beige. Around me, a dozen of multicolored pups was playing with one another. I wasn't stupid, even back then, so I fast realized who they all were. But most importantly, who The Face was. Before I could even think of running into her paws screaming "Mommy!", I felt pressure on my back paws and hips. Terrified, I spun my head around to find two tanned hairy hands tightly gripping me, when suddenly my body mystically lifted off the ground. The hands fed me a weird-tasting circular white treat, before carelessly throwing me into a basket. My siblings one by one arrived into the basket as well, crushing my every bone. As my conscience faded into a deep sleep, I heard a loud flat noise, which I suppose is the noise a hand hitting a dog would make. Shortly after, I heard my mother's cry which is the last thing I heard, before the tanned hands closed the basket's lid.
When I woke up, the setting has majorly changed. It was night time and we weren't in a room anymore, but there was one good thing about this situation: I was still surrounded by my 7 siblings. We were in a park, the barely noticeable trees surrounding it, made it look like an arena. Some distant light was coming from the street nearby, but we were too afraid to move. Soft, peaceful noise was coming from our left where the Mediterranean sea was. The basket we arrived here in, was lying open nearby, but no human was in sight. Even in Greece, winter nights are rather frosty and it didn't take us long to realize that.
"Guys," barked Rudy, the oldest and strongest of us, "stay together, it will keep us all warm!"
We quickly gathered round in a tight circle. Even still, I have never been that cold in my 2 months of life. The chilly weather was too numbing for a February evening. Minutes felt like hours and with each one passing we grew colder and colder. In fifteen minutes, we couldn't bare with it anymore. One by one, we all started crying for so many reasons but the main one being that we were confused and scared and there was no one who could help us. Not anymore... Our whine was becoming louder with every minute. If there was anyone in the quarter before, there would've definitely left by now. But none of it mattered because we were a pack of hopeless puppies on the streets without a mother to help them.
"Silence!" growled a voice coming from the blinding darkness. The light of the street behind her made her thin silhouette visible. She was bigger than a border collie, but not quite as big as a Golden Retriever.
Alert, all 8 of us growled back. Our growl said "We were just taken away from our mother and thrown out and emptied of any sort of hope left in us, there's nothing you can do to hurt us anymore" and even though that was a white lie, it sounded believable. Having heard our high-pitched baby choir growl, the dog stopped, then approached us and seeing our frightened puppy faces, grinned at us.
"Come with me," she said calmer and quieter this time.
Eagerly, we followed her. Our unknown guide made her way to the semi-illuminated street and into a restaurant. Many cafés, grills and pizzerias stood side by side along the alley, although not many were open due to the season. There were no customers in the place the dog brought us to, instead the room was filled with homeless animals, one dustier than the other. The lighting in the room was limited, but at least it was there, a radiator was standing in the middle of the room spreading heat everywhere. A clowder of at least a dozen cats was dominating the tables near the entrance and glared at us as we peered around the room. The light made our rescuer visible. She was also a Labrador mix with Jack Russel Terrier ears and blonde coating.
"Not again, Texta!" came a strict, but loving voice from behind the counter. A tall woman with her blonde hair in a tight ponytail was walking towards us. Her blue jean jacket, skinny leggings and high heels made her look taller than she already was.
"Beagadors!" barked Texta with pride.
"Who?" trembled my sister, Nikki's voice.
"Where?" growled Leo.
"You know she can't hear you, White Dog," interrupted my siblings Rudy.
"Are those... Labs? Why would you do this to me? You know we can't just let them go, right? They're puppies, finding them a home is my duty, now."
The lady talking to Texta had us all petrified. Even though, I couldn't understand anything she said her voice was music to my ears. I could tell that whatever she said she was half-joking, but also that she said it with great affection. Vulnerable, I walked up to her and started venting, not caring that I only met her or that I couldn't understand her. In reality, I didn't really vent, but I cried and all my kinfolk understood what I meant by it.
To my surprise, the lady took me into her arms, brushed my spine gently and said a reassuring "it's going to be ok". And that was the beginning of my unconditional friendship with her.

"How do you understand each other?" I asked Texta when she guided us to our table after Maria -that's the lady's name- signed a virtual contract for our temporary adoption, that is until someone actually adopts us.
"When you connect to a human in every way, you learn to understand them and they learn to understand you. That's the kind of connection a dog has with its owner, ownership isn't about your documents, it's about your connection. You see, legally, I'm not her dog, I'm homeless, but we understand each other and cooperate to help each other. Humans call that "friends", but in dogs that's multiplied, so we call it ownership. But you know what? Being homeless, you have to learn to understand people's languages. That's our only way to survive. Talk to them, play with them, so they give you food. Meeting people is the only way to find your owner."
"But why do we need an owner at all?"
"You don't as long as you don't find one. Because once you do, your happiness will depend on them."
Texta talked calmly, her wisdom and knowledge of the world were astounding. She was a generous teacher from day one. Her advice was always similar but never the same.
"You know so much, you must be very old."I made a remark, I instantly regretted.
Texta choked on her fried chicken.
"I'm not more than 3 months older than you, darling. Wisdom comes with experience, not age."
I've never thought of it like that, but contrary to my commentary Texta really didn't look old at all. In fact, I could perfectly imagine playing with her outside, one day. I wanted to be her friend. Unfortunately I have always had a tendency to get over attached to people and other dogs and to want to be friends with people who want nothing to do with me, but this was one of my lucky days.

I decided to keep it cool, so when Texta went around to talk to others I didn't continue talking to her to make her stay as much as I might have wanted to. I had a sparkled interest in her, she seemed to know so much and I refused to believe her knowledge ended there. There is so much more to discover about her, how could I stop now? Surprisingly and maybe silghtly thankfully, after she did her tour around the pack she came back to me.
"How did you get here?"she asked shortly after. I low-key appreciated that she went to me with that question and since she did, I told her everything that you already know. Obviously, it wasn't the easiest thing to talk about, but somehow Texta made it all much easier and re-comforting.
"Did you have one?" I asked when the warming sun came up and we all went to rest in the shade.
"Huh?"
"An owner?"
"Oh, yes!"she wasn't trying to -or simply couldn't- hide her compassion."It was a young boy, he was seven at the time. He came to the park I found you at yesterday to play with his football everyday and I would run to him to play with him. But he wouldn't. Until, one day he came here without a ball and he came up to me and just sat there. He took me into his hands, hugged me tight and when he let go, he started talking. Turns out he wouldn't play with me as he was afraid to hurt me. And he fed me some dog food. For a week, he kept coming and we kept talking. One day, he told me he was going to take me home. The next he came crying. His parents wouldn't let him. So he snuck me in. It was nice and warm in his house. But in the middle of the night, I felt alone and scared, so not thinking much of it, I whined. Loud. Woke his parents up. His dad grabbed me and threw me outside the door."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. Now, hush! Bed time."