The tragedy of the dogs

Don't dogs live pitiful lives?
They guard masters who do not acknowledge them,
constantly shooing them away.
They serve with unwavering loyalty,
without ever a thought of revolt,
only for what?
scraps. food. a little pat on the head.
They settle at the feet of masters,
never harboring any hopes of rising to the top.
Yet they do so with pride and honour,
while allowing themselves to be trampled over by men
again without any murmur or bark.
And when men do not need them,
or at the slightest of complaints,
the dogs are murdured,
cruel, cold-bloodedly
and as inhumanely as humans could,
without an ounce of guilt.
and what remains of the rest of the pack.
they remain loyal.
soldiering on,
yet no complaints again.
Sadness feel their eyes,
you could see them searching for their murdered brothers,
ever on the lookout.
Yet if you look deeper,
you could see that they already know what happened
even before the murders.
But alas,
its in their contract to serve
and to protect-
With their lives.

not a poem. not a prose. just something i wrote for the sad dogs of the company in the army. brutally murdered just because of some complaints by some parents for fear of the dogs bite. I pity them. I admit, i wasnt fond of them when i first came. I saw them as strays, Vagabonds, freeloaders only here for the food. But as time past, i grew a soft spot for them. The way they bark at other dogs who attempt to 'invade' the company, the way they march alongside platoons, proud as a general yet humble as a soldier, and the way they seem to understand commands, when the command is given for the soldiers to sit, you could see them just behind the platoons, sitting down straight, looking at the other direction, guarding the backs of a thousand soldiers, and the way they settle down next to the status personnel during runs, asif saying 'do not worry, i want to run too, but i understand you guys and for that i will stay with you', and the way they do not take the indifference of the people to heart, still following us ever around, the way they stop at the gate at the road junction as if knowing it is their boundary to their home and stand guard there till we return from our meals, and the way they seem to tell us through silence to soldier on, telling us that they have been here for years and that we could do it. May we remember these dogs always and may the remaining few remain forever.

Army life is well. army life. I can't really put it in words. I could say its a prison with invisible bars, but that would be inaccurate and unfair to some of the superiors. I could say its just a storm every man have to past, but that would not be fair for the sunny days we had. To tell the truth, i guess i'm kinda fine in army. my platoon and especially my section(U4S4) have been great so far and its more than i hoped for. yeah. and seriously. army i guess needs to be experienced yourself. It just isn't the same hearing war stories and going to war yourself.

On a happier note. Merry Chirstmas to all. and a toast to all for the dogs.

till nxt time