The Pup in the Alley

When No One Listens, Someone Will.

🐕

Silence wrapped Bridgetown, a tawny blanket - too dense for its residents to appreciate. Waste bins hummed with the overwhelming calls of crickets.

Michael slowed, his backpack heavy. Oppressive. A weight so pressing, the pavement beneath his feet seemed to split.

A stray pup, its coat matted and worn, approached him. Its nose nudged gently, as if asking, "What happened?" Meanwhile, cars still sped by. The ton of bricks on his back didn't seem lighter.

🐕

"Hey, you. Looking for a snack?" Michael offered the little dog the packet of crisps he was snacking on. The dog sniffed it, but didn't bite.

It sat, looking at him, cocking its head.

Waiting.

Michael gazed at it for a second, then confessed.

"Ok, no one else here will hear it anyway. I may as well tell you. I got laid off today. I have bills to pay. A father I dare not say this to because all I get will be: "See, I told you that you'll never stay in a job for long."

The pup continued to fix him with its wide-eyed stare.

But the mats around its ears seemed to uncurl as its ears stood.

🐕

"Look at me," Michael slumped against the bench, his rucksack still a cumbersome burden. "Having a chat with a stray dog. What on Earth has happened to my life?"

The dog cocked its head to the other side, not understanding a word-but just was.

He lifted the rucksack, trying to shove it out of the way - and it lifted in a heartbeat. To his heartbeat. A light knock, in sync.

🐕

Michael gave his rucksack - filled with ignored resumes and degree transcripts- a satisfying kick. He sat straighter than before.

The dog cocked its head again, then dropped its jaw.

A doggy smile.

"Thanks, bud. Don't think dad will ever get it. I will have to find a job to pay those bills. But you got it." He patted the dog's head, and it answered by burying its nose in his palm.

"Don't have much to offer, but I might have a decent wholemeal. Want to come home with me for some?"

The dog stood on its hocks, ready. Hopeful. Waiting.

A tail wag - tentative. Then, harder.

Michael strode home, steps lighter, a new friend trotting by his side.

🐕

At home, Michael tore open the wholemeal loaf waiting for the duo in his breadbox. The hungry dog caught it in its jaw and gulped it in a snap.

He stared at the unpaid bills grimacing from the side table by the sofa. They'd continue to moan and groan for a while. He gazed at the dog, ears erect despite the matted fur which threatened to weigh them down.

If these could stand, so could he.

Original story by Michelle Liew Tsui-Lin. AI tags are coincidental.