…dozens of dogs. Big, weak, with yellow eyes and dirty fur, who all turned to him at the same time. The butcher took a step back,s. but he didn’t get to leave, because the old woman turned and saw him.
“What are you doing here?” he said, in a harsh voice, but not angry.
I just wanted to understand where you’re taking all the meat…
The woman sighed. In the dim light of a lamp, her face looked furrowed for years and worries.
“I found them two years ago, hungry, sick… They were bringing her children to abandon them here. If I didn’t feed them, they would die. So… I come daily.
The butcher looked around. Some dogs had bandaged wounds, others slept peacefully on improvised blankets. That strong smell came from a corner where the old woman boiled a large pot, like a soup for animals.
“But why don’t you ask for help?” he asked, in a low voice.
I asked… but no one wanted to hear it. “They’re just dogs,” they said. For me, I’m not “just” that’s it. I’m all I have.
In the silence that followed, the butcher felt his heart tighten. An old woman, alone, sacrificed her pension and powers to feed some forgotten souls.
The next day, when he came to work, he set aside some of the remaining meat and filled a box with good bones and debris. When the woman came, she didn’t say anything, she just smiled at them and gave her the box over the counter.
“On the house,” he said.
