Life can be a little unpredictable, right? It is not definite that everything will go in a horizontal graph. Destiny can throw all twists and turns at your face, and you can't do anything except endure it. I wish my humans had warned me that everything is not going to be rainbows and unicorns. Oh wait, humans did teach me something - betrayal.

You might be wondering who I am. Before making you more perplexed and venting out my frustration, let me disclose my identity. I am Baghira. My breed is St. Bernard, and I am a 5-year-old male. I was once a very loved pet, but as I said, life is full of plot twists. And one such plot twist made me homeless.

When my breeder sold me to a new set of people, everything was confusing. Instead of my siblings and other fellow dogs, I was suddenly surrounded by humans. Humans of all kinds would touch me, rub my belly, and cuddle me tightly. Initially, the thought of being separated from my family made me anxious, but quickly those humans made me feel loved and belonged. I felt like a part of their family.

They would take me for walks, play fetch with me, feed me heavily, and never leave me alone for a single moment. I used to adore playtime a lot. Even though I couldn't see the point of fetching a ball just for my humans to throw it again, I was ready to do anything as long as my family was happy. Even the neighbors adored me. When I would sunbathe in the garden, the kids would call my name and try to pet me through the gates. Sometimes my parents would take me on drives and let me make friends with other dogs.

Once, during my puppy phase, I was left alone for a while. I didn't know where my family members went. But they promised me that they would be back again. My mom petted my head and told me to be a good boy. And I loved being called a good boy. So, I ended up sleeping on the couch the whole time. During my nap, I heard the keys jiggling, and I realized my owners were back home! I jumped excitedly and waited for them to hug me and call me a good boy. And they did! They were proud of me and gave me treats. I ended up being pampered by all of them.

This became a new routine. They would carry a bag with them and then go outside for a few hours. Sometimes I got lucky. They would open the door to the terrace so that I could wave to them from there. Sometimes I would sleep quietly in the hall, and other times I would steal my parents' clothes and sleep on them if I missed them too much. But I got used to it with the passage of time.

Now I was growing older, and my family could see that. I was becoming more and more lethargic. Running after them did not seem appealing to me anymore. I would sometimes play fetch with my parents, but I would soon end up panting and sleeping on my bed. Sometimes I would not even eat or drink. I was okay with that, but maybe my parents were not.

One day, my parents got me inside the car. I happily followed them and kept wagging my tail. Even though I was not very responsive, from the inside, I was happy. The car stopped in an isolated area. The place resembled that area where my parents would often take me for trekking. My mom scratched my ears, and my dad called me a good kid. But I could sense that something was off. They were sad. I tried to sniff my mom, but she turned away. Hey! This was new! My mom never turned away from me.

They unclipped my leash and got into the car. I tried to get inside with them, but they started the engine. They drove off and never looked back. To say I was confused would be an understatement. I was scared. Maybe this was the new routine? Maybe they would be back by the evening? I was a good boy, wasn't I?

The day turned into an evening. The evening turned into night. But my parents did not return. Several days passed. I roamed the streets in search of someone from my family. I looked for a familiar face among the strangers. But no one came to pet me. I had to eat from the streets, take shelter under cars, and fight off other strays to survive. My temperament was changing. From being a friendly and sociable dog, I was turning into an aggressive dog. Unlike the neighborhood kids, the kids here would run away from me. I was alone, all alone.

One fine day, as I was roaming in search of food, some people came to me. I thought they would harm me, so my survival instincts told me the best. I tried to attack them. But they were determined to capture me for some reason. Alas, I gave in. I had no energy to resist them, and my hunger was killing me inside.

They took me to a new place. I could smell other dogs from the gate. When they unleashed me, I explored the place hesitantly. It was a shelter. There were so many dogs! There were so many huge animals. Some were in pain, some were happily playing, some were resting, and some were kept in cages.

The people who had captured me gave me food. Lots of food! After eating, I took a nap. I could sense that humans were touching me. There were hands all over my body, but it was not an uncomfortable touch. I could sense their intention. Maybe they were trying to help me. And I let them. After all, I was a good boy.

Several days passed, and now I was turning into my old self. I was happy. I was getting used to the new people and other animals. Today, as I look at my newfound family - the DHF family, I wonder whether my previous owners miss me. I wonder whether they have found a new dog whom they are going to abandon just like me. And I wonder, was I not a good boy for them?