This is a true story about a dog that liked zebras, an odd little Peggy that brought joy into my life. It all began on a rainy August night in 1991, now far gone. I enjoyed walking in silence along the street with the warm rain pouring down the buildings and sidewalks. That distant night wouldn't have been so special if there hadn't been for my little companion - a little dog that was following me in a shy manner. Her big bright eyes glowed in a semi-dark alley. I could see sadness in that abandoned little creature that was looking for a shelter on a late rainy night. Little black and white Peggy and I started living under the same roof that same night. There was something in her which made her different from other creatures. Even now, after all these years, I cannot say what it is. But the one thing I'm certain of is that she was immensely happy and that she trusted me completely. She could love truly and keep our home safe. She sensed each of my sorrows, each of my tears. She would gently put her small paw in my hand, lay her head on my shoulder to comfort me and keep me warm with her little body. When I was around, her joy was the same as it had been the first morning, every word I said she took in and that made her happy, she looked forward to each day that we spent together, to our long walks. Her life was filled with singing and dancing. Yes, Peggy loved to sing, especially when the violin was playing. And she loved dancing a lot. She even liked my books and wouldn't let anyone touch them. Perhaps she felt that they meant a lot to me, and perhaps she liked them because they brought harmony into our home. But most of all, Peggy loved zebras. She found some secret symbols in them that led her into another world; from one side of the street to the other. She was always in a hurry to see zebras during our long walks. They led her into the new adventures and encounters with different creatures. She looked for their traces in the snow and in the rain, and she was the only one that knew the meaning of black and white stripes. Peggy loved streets and zebras; she loved nature and freedom which she always carried inside of her. For me, seeing her happy, giving love and shelter to this sad and abandoned little creature, was enough. Peggy is not alive anymore; she rests in peace now in the shadow of an old quince tree. Not a day goes by without me remembering her. Every time I see zebras I remember the odd little Peggy, I hear rapid heartbeats of her restless heart, I see her in the river where we used to swim, I hear her singing and calling me. And I know that I would not be able to love any other little dog as much as I had loved Peggy. I've tried to paint her but with no success. People say that a painting is a story of thousands words, but I think that no painting can depict Peggy. That's why I have written this story. Everyone who has ever loved a dog will know why I've written it once they've read it.
The dog that liked zebras, author Suzana Stojanović, February 16, 2007