The story of Lobo, a perfectly normal and yet absolutely extraordinary stray dog, is a very touching tale with many twists and turns. In his search for a place in the society into which he was born Lobo runs into situations from which there seems no escape. The unexpected final events and Lobo's journey through an exciting and moving life are sympathetically and vividly portrayed and illustrated with drawings. The life of this dog is, despite great adversity, constantly illuminated by a star of hope and especially for this reason the book is also suitable for children who want to fill it and Lobo's illustrations with colour.
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ISBN 978-3-946723-06-6 (E-Book)
ISBN 978-3-9816162-7-9 (Print-Version)
Tales of a Street Dog
Published in Germany as Sternschnuppenlicht by
Verlag Begegnungen, Schmitten, 2013
Original text copyright © 2013 by Verlag Begegnungen
English translation copyright © 2016 by Verlag Begegnungen
English translation first published in Germany in 2016 by
Cover layout copyright © by Elke Mehler, www.querwerker.de
Cover picture background copyright © by fotolia
Cover picture dog copyright © by Christine Goeb-Kümmel
Inside illustrations copyright © by Christine Goeb-Kümmel
All rights reserved
Project Shooting Starlight
Further publications from the Publisher Begegnungen:
The tale of a dog, searching for home.
Translated from the German
by Chrissie Butler
Dedicated to the street dogs of Cluj/Romania and to other street dogs throughout the world …
This is the tale of Lobo – a perfectly normal Romanian dog.
His story takes place in Romania but might be told from all corners of the world; from any country where there are dogs without a home and living on the streets.
It is an exceptional story with many twists and turns. By and large however it depicts the everyday lives led by many stray dogs – hardly noticed, unwanted or even abused, helpless and unprotected, for the most part running away, constantly hungry and always fending for themselves. In spite of everything though they are fond of humans and grateful for human contact and affection.
May Lobo’s story raise awareness that these dogs are living creatures who can experience joy and pain, who never harm anyone and who in return have a right to a sorrow-free life.
Maybe children who read this story or have it read to them would like to colour the illustrations and so make Lobo’s world a brighter place?
And if whilst doing so you think of all of those – whether people or animals – whose lives are not colourful and happy, then these positive thoughts and prayers will surely make the world a little brighter.
Lobo dashed through the familiar streets of his territory that day, the same as every day since coming here to this place. His original home was the wide, picturesque, undulating landscape at the foot of a majestic mountain range far away from the gates of this town. Often he thought longingly of the wonderful countryside that he knew so intimately. He had been born there and there he had spent the first years of his life, joyful and carefree. He lived on a small farm surrounded by pure, unspoiled nature. The smallholding belonged to an old man who had a close connection with the land he occupied and to all living things, whether human or animal. He was kind and loving to the animals that lived with him, empathising and acknowledging that they were God’s creatures who could feel hurt and pain as well as happiness and joy, just like him.
Even though they communicated in different languages they nonetheless understood one another, because they spoke from heart to heart and soul to soul.
The little that he had, he shared with his animals. He found joy in sharing because what the animals gave him in return, namely loyalty and unconditional love, made him richer than all the money in the world.
However Lobo’s happiness could not last – hard times came. When Lobo was two years old the man became very ill and died. Lobo was lying at his feet when his beloved master closed his eyes forever. And as the dog sensed that the old man’s soul was making its way to heaven, he raised his eyes to the night sky and caught sight of a fantastic meteorite, weaving its way through millions of stars. He watched it go and felt a reassuring light, like a comforting glow, in his body. The shooting star seemed to him a sign of hope, it seemed to be showing the old man which way to go. Like most animals Lobo was able to accept death and had the deep inner knowledge that no soul gets lost but simply journies away, out into a different place.
Everything changed with the death of the person who had cared for Lobo since birth, always being there for him. Events were in the offing which would drastically change his life.
The old man’s children who lived far away in a big town, arrived in order to view their inheritance. However they were not interested in the simple homestead nor the land with which the old man had had such a strong connection. They planned to sell the house, the stalls, the fields and the meadows as soon as possible; noisily they chased away the animals that lived there, including Lobo.
Lobo did not understand the world any more. Frightened, he ran away. At a distance though he stopped. He could not grasp what was happening to him. Several times he tried to return to the place that was his home. But the strange people only kicked and threw stones at him. He sought sanctuary in a nearby grove. From a small elevation he could see the farmyard, the dwelling and familiar outbuildings that had provided protection and refuge for him all his life.
He spent several days and nights up there, sad and alone.
One morning he decided to try to return home one last time. Lobo crept onto the plot very carefully and full of fear. But no-one was there to harm him. The strange people were no longer around, the house was locked up, the doors and windows barricaded with boards. He ranged over the familiar yard. It was empty and abandoned, abandoned just like the adjoining stalls and barns.
Loneliness and worry, desolation and fear grew within him. What was to become of him now? Winter was approaching and it seemed that life here was no longer possible for him. Sadly he left the property. He did not return to the adjoining hillock which had been his refuge over the last few days, but went towards the dusty, small street that led away from the yard. Having arrived there he stood, undecided. He had never been so far from the yard in this direction, he did not know whence this street led. The wide, unspoiled land that stretched out on the other side of the yard he knew only too well. How often had he been there, alone on his forays or together with the old man? The land had given them sustenance and a sense of earthiness, it made him very sad having to leave this place. However he had no choice, winter stood at the door; without protection and all alone he would not be able to survive.
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