Jina and Dora were inseparable. Jina, a sleek, energetic border collie mix, was always on the move, her tail a blur of motion. Dora, a sweet, gentle golden retriever, moved more slowly, her back legs weakened by a birth defect. She often limped, her gait a little uneven, but Jina never left her side.
They lived on the fringes of a small park, a familiar sight to the locals, though few ever stopped to interact with them. Jina would often bound ahead, exploring the scents and sounds of the park, but she’d always circle back, checking on Dora, making sure she wasn’t too far behind.
Jina had noticed the way people reacted to Dora. They’d smile at Jina, sometimes offering a quick pat on the head, but their gaze would often linger on Dora’s uneven gait, a flicker of pity or sometimes even discomfort crossing their faces. They’d often move on quickly, drawn to the more “perfect” dogs, the ones who ran and played with effortless grace.
Jina didn’t understand this. To her, Dora was perfect. She was kind, gentle, and full of love. She had a quiet strength, a resilience that Jina admired. Her limp didn’t define her; it was just a part of who she was.
She’d often sit beside Dora under a large oak tree, watching the other dogs play with their owners. She’d see the joyful throws of a frisbee, the excited chases, the loving embraces. She’d long to join in, to share that same connection, but she knew that people would stay away, not because of her, but because of Dora.
She’d nudge Dora gently with her nose, offering a comforting lick on her ear. Dora would look up at her with her warm, brown eyes, a soft sigh escaping her lips. She understood the unspoken communication between them, the shared sadness, the quiet understanding of their shared experience.
They’d overhear snippets of conversations, hushed comments that drifted on the breeze. “That poor dog,” someone might say, referring to Dora. “It’s a shame about her legs.” Or, “It’s nice that the other dog stays with her, but…” The unspoken words hung in the air, a subtle reminder of their difference.
Jina would feel a pang of sadness. She didn’t understand why people judged Dora based on her physical limitations. She knew that Dora had a big heart, a gentle soul, and an unwavering capacity for love. She was just as deserving of love and affection as any other dog.
She’d think, Why do they stay away? Why can’t they see how wonderful Dora is? Is it because she’s different? Is it because she’s not “perfect”? The questions echoed in her mind, a constant, nagging worry.
Dora would rest her head on Jina’s shoulder, a silent gesture of comfort and understanding. She didn’t need words to express her feelings. She felt Jina’s love, her unwavering support, and that was enough.
They were a pair, bound by a deep and unwavering friendship. They knew that some people would stay away, judging them based on Dora’s disability. But they also knew that their bond was stronger than any prejudice, that their love for each other transcended any physical imperfections. They were happy with each other, and they hoped that one day, people would see past Dora’s limp and see the beautiful, loving soul that she was, and accept them both. They were sad that people judged them based on Dora’s disability.
