I am out of the city on the bus to what we have learnt is Romania. There is no room left in Poland to process and feed us. I am hungry and thirsty and have lost my hearing from the explosion on the truck. There are 4 dogs on the bus all with their mistresses. I have no one. What will I do when I get to this place called Romania?
Thank goodness one of the dog owners has some sausage and bread and gives me some to eat. She also gives me some water. She calls me a sweet little thing and she cries even more when she says she can’t take care of me as she has her own dog and children to take care of. I understand and try to comfort her as she moans about her husband back in Kiev fighting the Putin stormtroopers.
Despite having bright flashes affecting my vision my stomach is full and I start to doze off and then again a deafening explosion as something hits the bus. Many women and children are killed. I am fine and hop over the dead bus driver and sit outside the bus. There are 4 Russian soldiers coming towards the bus with their pistols. Saying “Ukrainian Bastards die”. They board the bus and I hear shooting for a few minutes and cries for help. Then all is silent. They throw a few grenades at the bus and walk away laughing. I am grabbed by the neck and taken into the woods by a soldier they call “The Brute”. The soldiers are driving a van with Ukrainian license plates. These vermin are spies and mercenaries. The Brute smiles at me speaking sweetly and calls me a Ukrainian cur and motions for me to have a piece of sausage. I see a glint of steel behind his back. I understand Russian but don’t flinch when he says he will skin me alive and force a Ukrainian soldier to eat me. My rage, hatred and terror come into my blood and I have one thing on my mind and that is the honour of my master Anatoli, his wife Boyka and the two children Danilo and Daryna. I edge closer and give a horrifying growl and with adrenalin pumping lunge high up at the throat of The Brute who in this last second hopefully feels terror of a sudden death. I rip out his throat and taste his blood amidst the stench of vodka on his breath. His companions are stunned and seizing the scant time I have I run deeper into the woods and they are cracks of rifles and I hear bullets whizzing all around me and my hind leg is burning with pain but I run zig zagging in and out of the trees. There is blood on the snow. I am so tired I can’t go much farther but I run into a Ukrainian patrol of soldiers that order me to sit and stay. I see them as angry as I am kill the invaders and they shout very angry and bad words. They come back and I am getting very sleepy. If this is death then let it be said I died with honour.