Loyalty of Humans and Animals

Start writing...In the peaceful outskirts of a small village surrounded by lush green fields and a slow-moving river, lived an old farmer named Rehmat. His life was modest — a small mud house, a wooden cot, a few chickens, an ox for farming, and his most loyal companion — a dog named Sheru.

Sheru wasn’t an ordinary dog. He had grown up with Rehmat, rescued as a pup from a rainstorm years ago. Rehmat had found him shivering near a tree, abandoned and hungry. Without hesitation, he had wrapped him in his shawl, fed him warm milk, and since that day, Sheru had never left his side.

Over the years, they formed an unbreakable bond. Sheru would walk beside Rehmat as he went to the fields at dawn, chase away birds from the crops, and bark away any wild animals that came too close. When Rehmat sat under the old banyan tree for his lunch, Sheru sat quietly beside him, watching the butterflies, sometimes chasing the wind.

Rehmat would often say to the villagers, “Sheru understands me better than any human. He can sense when I’m sad, tired, or in pain. He doesn’t need words — his heart speaks.”

People in the village admired their bond. Children would call Sheru a hero. Elders would pat his head and say, “If only humans could learn loyalty from animals.”

Then came the dark night.

It was mid-winter. The wind howled outside, and most villagers were wrapped in their blankets. But far away, hidden in shadows, a group of thieves entered the village. They had planned to rob Rehmat, believing an old man living alone would be an easy target. Their aim was to steal the ox — the only valuable possession Rehmat owned.

Climbing over the wall, they crept into the courtyard. Sheru, who always slept with one eye open, immediately sensed something was wrong. He growled, low and deep. The thieves, expecting a harmless old dog, tried to silence him with a cloth over his snout. But Sheru, fueled by fierce loyalty, broke free, leapt at one of them, and let out a loud, angry bark that echoed through the village.

Lights turned on. Doors opened. Rehmat, despite his age, grabbed a stick and stumbled out. Neighbors came running. The thieves panicked. In the chaos, Sheru managed to bite one of them and held him until the villagers caught up. The other thieves fled, but the captured one revealed everything.

Rehmat hugged Sheru tightly that night, tears in his eyes. “You saved me, my friend. You saved everything I had.”

From that night on, Sheru wasn’t just Rehmat’s dog — he became the pride of the village. People began calling him the “Guardian of the Fields.” Local boys made a little medal from a tin can and tied it around his neck. Sheru walked with pride but never let the fame change him. He was still the same loyal friend who sat beside Rehmat every evening, silently watching the sunset.

Months passed. One summer afternoon, Rehmat didn’t wake up with his usual energy. He complained of chest pain and fatigue. A local doctor said it was age and weakness. Rehmat grew weaker with each passing day. His walks stopped. He lay mostly on his bed, gazing at the ceiling or the window, sometimes whispering prayers under his breath.

Sheru never left his side. He refused to eat. He would rest his head on Rehmat’s hand and look at him with eyes full of worry. At night, he curled beside the bed, waking at every sound, as if guarding Rehmat from death itself.

Then, one quiet evening, with the air heavy and still, Rehmat softly called out Sheru’s name, placed his trembling hand on his head, and with a faint smile, closed his eyes forever.

The news of Rehmat’s death spread quickly. Villagers gathered to offer prayers. Sheru followed the procession to the graveyard, his tail down, his eyes lifeless. When the burial was complete, Sheru lay beside the grave, refusing to move. No one had the heart to force him away.

Days went by. Sheru stayed there, braving the sun, the cold, and the hunger. Villagers brought him food and water, but he barely touched it. His heart had already broken. He waited, perhaps hoping to hear Rehmat’s voice again, to feel that gentle hand on his head.

On the seventh day after Rehmat’s death, Sheru was found lying still by the grave, his eyes closed, his body cold.

Tears filled every villager’s eyes. They buried Sheru next to Rehmat, placing flowers on both graves.

Two souls — one human, one animal — united in life, and in death.


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Moral of the Story:

True loyalty knows no language, no species, no boundaries. In a world where trust is often broken, Sheru’s love for Rehmat stands as a shining example of how pure and selfless the bond between a human and an animal can be. Sometimes, it’s not people, but animals, who teach us what it really means to love, to protect, and to remain faithful till the very end.