I don’t like dogs.
Not out of fear. Not even dislike, really. I just… never felt anything for them.
But every Saturday morning, my daughter wakes up with a kind of excitement I don’t see on school days.
It’s not for cartoons.
Not for outings.
Not even for treats.
It’s for the street dogs waiting at the corner of our lane.
All week, she talks about them like they’re old friends.
“She must be hungry.”
“I think he was sad last time.”
“I’ll take extra biscuits this weekend.”
I nod, half-listening, not fully understanding how a few street dogs could matter this much to her.
But to her, they aren’t just dogs.
They have names.
They have personalities.
They have stories.
Every weekend, she and her father step out together—biscuits and dog food in hand, smiles on their faces, and a quiet little ritual that belongs only to them.
It started with simple biscuits.
But recently, we’ve begun making sure she carries proper dog food along too—something more filling, something better for them.
(You can check something similar here: Dog food option we use)
Sometimes, we also carry biscuits—whatever we have at home, something like these:
- Drools biscuits: Drools biscuits we carry
- Pedigree biscuits: Pedigree biscuits alternative
I watch them leave.
She walks a little faster than him, almost pulling him along, like she’s afraid her friends might disappear if she’s even a minute late.
And when she returns, she’s different.
Lighter. Happier. Fuller somehow.
One day, I decided to stand at a distance and watch.
She crouched down on the pavement, completely unbothered by the dust, the noise, the world around her.
A small dog came running toward her, tail wagging like it had been waiting all week.
She laughed.
Not the polite kind of laugh.
The real one. The kind that comes from somewhere pure.
She spoke to them like they understood every word.
Shared her biscuits carefully, making sure no one was left out.
Waited for the shy one to come closer.
Smiled at the playful one jumping around her.
And for a moment, everything else faded.
I still don’t like dogs.
But I’ve started noticing things I never did before.
How she remembers who didn’t eat properly last time.
How she worries if one of them isn’t around.
How she celebrates the smallest things—like a wagging tail or a gentle nudge.
She’s learning something…..
Kindness that doesn’t expect anything in return.
Love without conditions.
Connection without words.
I used to think she was just feeding street dogs.
But now I see it differently.
She’s showing up for them.
And somehow, they’re showing up for her too.
I still stand at a distance.
Still unsure. Still a little disconnected.
But every weekend, I find myself watching a little longer.
Softening a little more.
Understanding, maybe for the first time, that love doesn’t always look the way we expect it to.
Sometimes, it looks like a little girl…
waiting all week
to meet her street dog friends.
🐾 What We Carry for Her Street Dog Friends
If you also feed street dogs, here are simple things that help:
- 🥣 Dog food: the dog food we’ve recently started carrying
- 🦴 Biscuits (option 1): the biscuits she loves taking for them
- 🦴 Biscuits (option 2): another good option we sometimes use
- 💧 Water bottle
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❤️ If this story resonated with you, feel free to share it with someone who would relate—or leave a comment. I’d love to hear your thoughts.
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