Autobiography of a Street or Stray Dog [With PDF]

Today we came up with an autobiography writing, which is on a Street Dog or you can say Stary Dog. So without spending more time let's dive into the composition.
Suprity Acharyya
Reading Time: 13 minutes
This Autobiography is Formatted For Class 5 | Class 6 | Class 7 | Class 8 | Class 9 | Class 10 | Class 11 | Class 12

When I opened my eyes for the first time, I saw light, a big wall in front of me with a poster of a man holding a gun torn off. Howling sounds were coming from everywhere and there was a strong pungent smell, a smell that I still give me chills.

It was difficult for me to see clearly at first. All I could see was four puppies of my size and two big puppies around me. One of them feeds us two-three times a day and the other growls at people, and other big puppies who try to come near us. It took me a long time to realize that those big puppies are called dogs and the two who were taking care of us were our parents. 

Soon, I started seeing the world with my eyes. There were so many colours around me. So many people, walking at a fast pace, as if they don’t run, they are going to miss something, something important.

I never got out of the big brown rug and neither did my brothers and sisters. We would always lie there, with either of our parents, most often with our mother.

My father would go and get food for my mother. It was always a piece of bread and sometimes he would get her bones to chew. But most of the time he would return with no food hanging from his mouth.

On those days, he would come to my mother, lick her face and they would touch their heads together as if he says sorry and she understands.

 On those times, I could see water trickling down from my father’s eyes. I did not understand why I never had water trickling down from my eyes or from the eyes of my brothers and sisters. But that was when we were young.

Long gone are the days when we would wait for our mother to return home after our father fails to bring home some food. She would come to us, sad and we all would just hover around her and suck the milk out of her, biting her and fighting with each other while she just lies there, helpless. Happy but helpless. 

Days went by and I was the first one to walk among my siblings. My parents looked at me with pride and I thought I was their favourite child. Soon, my brothers and sisters started walking and soon after that, we were running around, everywhere.

Our parents would then go on food hunting together, leaving us behind, but always within an arm's reach. One afternoon, we all went a little too far and saw things. There was a huge building and people were entering and exiting it with some kind of hurry. They all had huge boxes with wheels at the end.

They will just pull those boxes with them. We entered through one of the doors and saw a big blue vehicle that moved. It was called a train. We were so happy seeing so much commotion that we separated.

After a while when we all returned, one of my brothers was missing. Soon my parents found out and went looking for him, but they also never returned. We waited the whole night, hungry, but no one came. 

The next morning we went to look around for our parents and brother. We walked together, looked everywhere. We barked around the huge dustbins and looked around the garbage that laid down there.

We looked around the place where cars were always parked in a systematic fashion. We looked around the tracks where the train always runs and we looked around the rooms where sweaty people rested on a piece of torn cloth the same as our rug. 

Tired and hungry, we went to the shops nearby where people blow smokes out of their mouth and throw paper plates with food on the streets. We were eating when I noticed that pungent smell again. The smell I first smelled when I opened my eyes. I followed the smell to the back of the shop and there she was, my mother.

Her mouth, wide open. Her eyes, still and filled with shock and desperation. Her face stained black from the water coming out of her eyes. Ants, surrounding her body and inside her eyes and ears and mouth. I barked and called for my brothers and sisters. We circled her, pawed her to wake up. Licked the ants out of her face. But she did not move. 

She lay still, with her cold motionless body. Blood that had dripped from her legs had soaked onto the ground beneath her. We started whining, calling for our mother but she did not move. A minute later, people were shouting at us and throwing water on us.

We ran, we ran like our lives depended on it. I don’t know when and how, but I lost track of my brothers and sisters. I barked and barked and whined and whined trying to find my family but I could not find anyone.

One day I had a family, a protective, loving family and now it’s all gone. I was left alone in an alley where people put pointy pins into their skin and lay still like they are dead. 

Days went by and I ate from the dumpster and there was no torn rug to sleep on. I walked, changing my location every day. I ran from other dogs who tried to chase me, hurt me. I ran and ran and ran. Wherever I went, I was kicked out.

With no parents, no siblings and no friends, I wandered around the road trying to not get crushed under the feet of a huge person who is always at a pace. Like if they don’t run, they are going to miss something, something important. Just like it was at the train station. 

Now I have grown somewhat. Not as big as the giant puppies that are called dogs but large enough not be called a puppy. My voice has changed, my energy has changed and so has my appetite. It is difficult to find food in this world yet I see so many people throwing leftovers in huge dustbins.

It is difficult to find a place to sleep as the people living in big houses do not like me sleeping near the free space of their garage. Many people have dogs of their own.

I have met an alsatian, a pug, a dalmatian and so many other beautiful dogs with their beautiful clothes and collars and silky smooth hair over their body. The people kiss them, feed them, love them yet, whenever I get close to the people they beat me, throw water at me, shout at me and make me wander around the streets during the heavy downpour. 

I miss the busy stinky station and my family. I miss my mother who was always there to feed me. I miss my father who was always there to protect me. I miss my siblings with whom I shared my mother’s womb.

I miss playing with them. As I lay here on the cold ground and think of those good old days, water starts trickling down from my eyes. Now I know what it was, why the water trickled from my eyes. 


So here comes to the end of the autobiography on a Street Dog, I hope you liked this composition, do let me know your thoughts in the comment section, I would love to see those.

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About the author:

Suprity Acharyya
Suprity Acharyya is a lead content writer of Your Essay Club, by education she completed her graduation in English Literature from North Orissa University and currently pursuing Masters in Social Welfare Management at IISWBM. She loves to write content that is easily readable with some unique taste!

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