Mangoes World

Welcome to the world of Ms M Mango

Wanted: a place to call home.

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Walking up the long driveway to the entrance was a like heading to the gallows. The stench was strong. I had prepared myself for something spectacular. I wasn’t leaving alone. I wanted to make a difference.

Approaching the doors to the confinement, we passed a woman. Stricken with tears, she was leaving. Although confused by her response, I assumed she didn’t find what she was looking for.

We entered the complex left, into the door marked ENTER. Inside it was cold. People were waiting for the lady behind the desk to tell them, to make them happy. To resolve their problem.

Walking forward we entered the yard. Solid buildings surrounded the grassy courtyard. There were cages all around. The noise of the screams, echoed from the tin walls. We didn’t feel the physical pain of the inmates, but we could hear the cry in their voices.

The concrete path leading to the pens, offered little sanctuary to the context of its surrounding. I could see a black shadow up ahead. He moved from his cell and back again. His freedom was short lived. His surface area was none.

I was stumbling. My legs pushed me forward, but my mind was holding me back. I remembered why I had never been there before, but I was here now and nothing was going to hold me back.

On the cages, I could see clothes. A symbol of confinement. They knew they were trapped. We entered the last of the cells. Walking a steady pace, we could see the pain of their surroundings. Black followed by brindle, we knew they knew.

Finally at the end. I see him. He moved from the bed to the front. Careful not to touch, he sat by the edge. Looking up at me I could see the sadness. I could feel his pain. Why was he here?

His eyes were golden. Strong and focussed. He knew he was trapped. He wanted to go home, but didn’t know where that was. He was lost.

I approached him. I looked onto his cell. He was three. He was a Beagle. And no one wanted him. The sadness in his eyes, brought me to tears. Why would no one want him? And more importantly what happens if no one does?

With that I fled. The sadness in his face shocked me. He knew and I knew. I felt his pain. I could never leave my pet. I could never give up on something I loved.

I fumbled through my bag for my sunglasses. I needed something to hide my tears. We left, as quickly as we entered. I was upset. I knew I had seen something in those cages, that would bring me to tears.

Suddenly I had stopped noticing the barking around me. I was entirely caught up in the in the look of that dog. I wanted him.

Walking towards us was a Staffy. His skin was red. He was irritated. I couldn’t decided whether or not he had a serious skin infection or he was a practise dog for a fighting ring. He was friendly. He was happy. He was bounding forward. He didn’t care how he looked.

We left with nothing. I hadn’t come for a dog. I knew I could have been persuaded, but I wanted a dog to call my own. I wanted someone who I could love.

The wonderful work done by The Lost Dog’s Home is not represented here. Their ongoing dedication to the well being of lost animals is something highly respectable. To donate to their cause please visit


Author: Em Mango

Blogger, PA, Nerd, Social Media Addict, Friend, Lover, Snuggler, Traveller

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