Nuria account written by the Protector's Lair Puente Genil (Córdoba), after acc

ompanying during his last hours to Gabriel, a Pit Bull who was forced to partici
pate in fights until they were dropped, shattered and unrecoverable. She was the
only one who offered her love after a life in which he found only brutality and
suffering. But it was late, very late, and Nuria, broken with grief, all she co
uld do so much and was standing by their side until a lethal injection ended the
agony of the unfortunate dog. Thanks Nuria for doing that Gabriel knew the baby
even if during the last moments of his life.
DEDICATED TO GABRIEL
I wanted this afternoon sad to be alone with you. We do not know anything, we ha
ve never seen, but on this day, I feel that I have to sit in front of you. And i
t must be this afternoon for tomorrow .... no longer will be. They will sacrific
e your life, in fact, that without talking, you're crying. It is late afternoon,
the horizon has turned red, like the trickle of blood dripping from your mouth.
And is that just looking at you is scary. You need a little eye and I can not h
elp but think of your suffering as you pulled it up in one of many fights illega
l where you may have been involved and where, and much against your will, for su
re, sadists, we have forced to participate, fight, fight, fight, kill .... A fie
rce battle, a pact to death, bite here and there, tears, your skin torn and tatt
ered, and you, poor fellows, fighting to death, blindly obeying the gods worship
ed devils in disguise. I can not even imagine that moment, not all that preceded
it in your long and gloomy life, I think you can have 13 or 14 years. Many, too
many days of sorrow. You had to be for your torturers around a "champion." Big
and Beautiful "issue" has been and still are. Corpulent "wide head," as bloodthi
rsty prefer not
scruples. Now you show me old, sick and finishing .... through the bars of the k
ennel. I stare, with the poor little eye that fits you well, impassive, static,
tired, and paralyzed by a life that has treated you so unfairly.
Occasionally, I have to look away. Impose mob while, you wake up much sympathy,
so sorry. They have made you a loser .... Sitting in front of you, the sun goes
down, sad, but beautiful, stained with blood, but crossed by a white line on his
horizon. You and I know that that line is tomorrow. It is the hope, the end of
your days that your suffering has finally, before you expect, is that nothing ca
n be done laboriously by your miserable existence. Viejo, resigned, hurt, suspic
ious .... do well not to trust a longer one because nobody ever gave you anythin
g, except for shocks, beatings and screams. And I have not wanted or know your n
ame, the name of the murderer with whom you have cried out and beaten. Today I h
ave called Gabriel, just between you and I, as the fallen angel that you are now
.
And I'm still looking, something funny, so hard ... and I know what you're think
ing. It is not hard to imagine that everything you are indifferent, they're not
going to believe you that you happen to go to something good, that nobody at thi
s point will give you a poor touch. You do not expect anything, and I know that
tomorrow, when they come to sleep forever, not even attempted to escape the deat
h friend. Look, you the distance you smell .... And you'll understand, such as b
eing intelligent and you are evicted, which will
be the only act of love that the human race has committed cruel you in your very
long and bloody life.
Spend the afternoon and you and I, we continue looking at us, alone in the kenne
l. The other dogs are quietly respecting perhaps farewell when we are wrapping t
his afternoon, your last evening ... And I think back on all the damage you have
inflicted, embedded and hardening your heart, cheered for matases others unhapp
y, you have been abused over and over again and finally, when you can not even w
ith your soul in tatters, just your days in a kennel from which he never come ou
t and alone, so alone and sick ... And I look at last, grieving and broken, and
call you in an affectionate tone of voice with the thread I have left this after
noon that he dies, but you are unable to move a muscle in your body exhausted. T
here is no language in the form of joy in your tail, or in your ears mutilated.
I get up and follow me with your eyes, I put a mattress in a corner. All I can g
ive you. It is my desire to spend the last night of your dismal existence, acomo
dodadito. Isolated bones Spent Cold your soil. Your last look thank me. I would
have done much more for you, but as so often, I have not found the time.€Hopefu
lly before you leave, you could understand. With slow steps, you go to him, and
finally, you're asleep. Hopefully this dream last night with the Rainbow in whic
h you'll soon be. Sleep fallen angel. Rest once, and tomorrow when you wake, a s
plit second, is to glimpse the color palette that invites you to leave the dark
world in which you put and, finally, sales forever. Night has fallen. The red ho
rizon has been hidden, but last the white, fluffy, floating in the sky bleak: yo
ur last hope. Nuria MartÍn. APAP "The Haunting of Puente Genil. www.laguarida.o
rg www.animalhelp.es