Foxy's Love and Sacrifice.

I am Jamie, and I have a very adorable dog named Foxy, who stood by me through thick and thin.

She was active and always ready to help me. "Foxy, come on, let's head out to the market." That was a way of telling her it was time to make our daily income. While I arranged my fruit in the wheelbarrow for the day's sale, Foxy was already ahead of me, wagging its tail, and it was such a beautiful moment.

We walked slowly to the market square to make sales for the day. My customer loved Foxy so much because she was friendly and helpful, always barking to get my attention when necessary.

One fateful morning, while we were taking our morning walk to the market, Foxy stopped halfway to the market square but I asked, "What's wrong with you, Foxy? Come on, let's go; it's getting late already." I reprimanded her for her unusual behaviour, but Foxy kept barking, and when I looked around, I was clueless as to why she was barking nonstop.

"Are you hungry?" I asked again as I picked up a pawpaw from my wheelbarrow to feed it, but Foxy refused to eat; it changed direction and wanted us to go back home.

I was getting agitated already, but my love for Foxy made me a bit more patient with her. At that moment, I knew she was trying to pass a message to me, but it was too bad I couldn't understand what she was saying.

I stood for almost ten minutes, trying to pacify her so that we could head to the market. After a while, she reluctantly accompanied me after I shouted at her.

We began to walk to the market, and almost at the market square, I saw a crowd chanting, "We will take whatever belongs to us." I wish I could be in the know, but there was nobody to whom I could ask anything.

The whole market was disorganized, and then I began to understand why Foxy never wanted us to be at the market that day. Before I knew it, gunshots were flying in the air.

"Foxy, run home!" I screamed with fear, as I never wanted anything to happen to Foxy, but Foxy refused to leave me behind. She began whimpering with tears in her eyes, and I could tell she was too scared to leave me behind.

So I began to run towards the house, leaving behind our wheelbarrow of fruits at the junction, and so Foxy started to run after me. Before I could know it, I heard a scream, and lo and behold, Foxy was already on the floor. My beloved Foxy was run over by a car that was travelling at high speed for fear the angry mob might destroy his car.

"Foxy!" I yelled, calling for help. A young man walked toward the scene and carried Foxy from the floor. "Hi, miss, don't worry, I'll help you." I accompanied him as we headed to a vet to save Foxy's life.

I began to pray that nothing would happen to my dear Foxy, even though I wasn't financially buoyant. Foxy, my beloved dog, stood by me even while all I had was a wheelbarrow of fruit. Her love for me was more than enough, and now I am on the verge of losing the dog that gave me so much joy.

"It's a 50/50 thing; she'll need to undergo surgery to survive," the vet told me as he tapped my shoulder. "Oh my gosh, I should have listened to you, Foxy!!" I cried out in pain and hoped for the best as the vet carried out the operation.

Today, when I look at my Foxy, I miss that active and friendly part of her back in the day because, after the surgery, Foxy has never been as active as she used to be, and I blame myself for that.