An Auto Biography of a Street Dog

An Auto Biography of A Street Dog
I am a street dog, who, belongs to no one, has nowhere to go, and, no one to look after me. I spend the whole day, and every day just loitering about the streets just aimlessly – or, you could say, in search of food.
My life is confined to pursuing my search for food all day. Never think that this work is easy, no, no not at all. I have to work very hard, move along houses, rubbish dumps and only then I may get a morsel or two to satisfy my hunger. Besides working hard, many a time I have to fight with other dogs of my clan who are also looking for food like me. I also have to hear streams of abuses when I pass through houses or flats.
Some owners of houses even hit me with sticks or stones. These abuses are my daily routine tonic, but, what can I do, I have to look for food. Man does not realize that, I also need food for life to sustain just like him. The mainstay of my quota of daily bread comes from the overflowing dustbins in the colony where I live. There are several dustbins made of concrete where the sweepers of the colony put all the rubbish thrown by men living in the colony.
After the sweepers have filled the bins I and some of my unfortunate pals start our search for whatever we can find by way of food. I thank the authorities who have never thought of putting covers on these dustbins, for, if they were covered how would I find my daily bread.
When we are inside the dustbins, I, at times do wonder as to how much food people throw. For, every day, I and at least four of my friends get our belly full breakfast and lunch. I am at the same time, of course thankful to men for, if they did not throw any food, where would I and many of my clan get food.
Though, I am thankful to man for throwing so much food, at the same time, I do not understand man’s psychology for 1 have seen that, whenever, I, or any one of us is sitting in front of a house, expecting a few morsels of food, the owners hit us, hoot us away. They...