Big Girl, Small Dreams

Remember those days when you were young?

When your little body harbours really big dreams?

When you felt like you could change the world?

When you actually felt HOPE that the world could be changed for the better?






I've almost forgotten how it is like.





4-5 years ago, I had ideals, I had dreams.

I wanted to change the canine perception of the public for the better.

I had hopes that it could be done.

When my mum told me that it was too big of a problem for little me to handle, I told her that it will at least make a difference to that one dog I had rescued.

That's why I did what I did.

I rescued Titan, roped in Joan's help, seeked Michelle's help, asked for my family's support, was grateful for Abby's graciousness, am still thankful for Cathy's aid.

And the many people whom I had troubled along the way.

For MY ideal.

It probably wasn't even theirs yet they helped. And til now, I'm eternally grateful.

Don't get me wrong. I never did regret rescuing Titan. It was the help along the way which I had to find, the people whom I had to trouble which makes me sad.

At that time, I had only dreams and nothing else. No capability, no money, no place. Pure hope was feeding my ideal... which is in the end, is still an ideal.

A few more cases and a truckload of jadedness later, it was a dear lesson learnt.

I didn't even know I had become what I was today, until I received my sister's call one fine Friday night.

"Sis, there are puppies along the main shopping centre and its gonna pour!" she said anxiously over the phone.

"Oh is it? And what do you want me to do?" I asked casually.

"I don't know! But I'm worried for them!" she said. "What if they enter the shopping centre? That's dangerous for them!" (for the dogs, mind you. the humans can all go to hell.)

"Ok. You either go home and leave them there, or you find someone to take them in. But the minute you take them in, you have to know that your responsibility is going to be heavy." I said.

(in retrospect, this whole conversation is amusing. I would probably be the one calling her, being all anxious about the puppies 4 years ago and she'll probably try to talk sense into me - ie how my dad will hit the roof again if he sees another dog in the house.)

In the end, she left the puppies there. Somehow I'm glad she didn't take the route I would have took in the past.

After the rain ended and I reached home, we went to find the pups. They were alright - hardy little creatures they were- and we fed them.

And then we left them again. This time, I found out that I could turn my back and walk away without feeling the jab of pain and guilt for leaving two helpless puppies behind.

I think jadedness numbed my heart.

And just as I thought it was the end of the chapter, my sis called me again the very next day.

"Erm sis," she said. "The puppies are now erm... downstairs."

Sigh.

Jaded as I was, I still have a little soft spot so I went downstairs to feed the little creatures.

Indeed, there they were. The two little monsters.

















The white one is a gem. Quiet and demure, she would have made a great pet for the elderly and even those with young kids.

The black and white one is a genius, but a potential terror to anyone who doesn't have enough time to spend with him.

Both are lovable and just too adorable.

But I turned my back once more, after I'd finished feeding them and clearing up the place.

"You've changed," Damien said when we were preparing to leave in the car. "You would not have beared to leave them behind."


And it was his words that jolted me to reality, that made me start thinking.

Perhaps I have changed. Perhaps I did not.

For better or for worse, one thing was for sure - I have learnt my lesson indeed.