My name is Mirso.
I was born in underground hole in April 2011. I had nine siblings but I'm the only one who left. I love people and I like to play with them.
These people have become my friends - they feed me, take care of me, provide me a medical treatment when needed and make my life out on the street much more tolerable.
Many of the people who care for me have their own pet dogs who when I talk to them tell me that have a very happy life. They told me about warm places, where no rain and snow fall, where they’re being bathed and groomed, they eat and drink out of their own bowls (that are never empty) and have warm cosy beds to sleep in. Those places they call homes. But I have never seen inside their homes because they are hidden behind closed doors. I would really love to see inside but whenever I try to enter I am not allowed to do so.
I see my friends being taken for walks by their owners - they look so happy with their leashes around their necks – their tails wagging in excitement.
I would love that too, so I walk beside them, place my head under their leash, pretending that I have my owner and a house.
The evenings are the most difficult and the loneliest as I do not have any shelter and I have to sleep alone on the street. People say there is something human in my eyes, they show the pain and suffering that I am experiencing. I wish I could find someone to care for me and give me a home and then my life would be wonderful and the pain and suffering would be a thing of the past.
I would even move abroad to a new country and learn a new language if it meant I could find a loving and caring owner and I know that I would also bring much joy and happiness to this owner.
Then my human eyes would sparkle in a new way.
Ja sam Mirso.
Rođen sam u rupi, pod zemljom, u aprilu prošle godine. Od devetero braće i sestara, ostao sam samo ja.
Volim ljude i volim se igrati, tako da sam stekao mnogo prijatelja koji me hrane, paze, liječe i olakšavaju mi život na ulici. Od njihovih ljubimaca sam čuo da postoje topla mjesta, gdje ne padaju kiša ni snijeg, gdje ih kupaju i češljaju, gdje jedu i piju iz svojih posuda (koje nikada nisu prazne) i spavaju na mekanom. Ta mjesta zovu svojim kućama. One se kriju iza brojnih vrata u mojoj ulici i to me strašno zanima.
Svaki put pokušavam ući na ta vrata kada se otvore, ali me ne puštaju. Svi moji prijatelji su lijepi i hodaju na povodcima. I ja bih volio tako, pa hodam pored njih, glave provučene ispod njihovog povodca, i pretvaram se da i ja imam gazdu i kuću.
Navečer mi je najteže jer nemam nikakvo sklonište i spavam na ulici. Tada sam najusamljeniji. Svi koji me znaju kažu da u mom pogledu ima nešto ljudsko, neka patnja i bol, koji bi nestali kada bih imao svog čovjeka i sve ono što kažu da ima u kući.
Iako teška srca, voljan sam odseliti u inostranstvo i naučiti novi jezik, sve bih učinio za onog ko bi me smatrao svojim.
Tada bi u mom ljudskom pogledu ukazao se neki novi sjaj.
