Early one quiet morning, Lala noticed something felt wrong. Usually, Tun would curl up beside her tiny puppies, nursing them gently while they squeaked and wriggled with contentment. But today, Tun had slipped out of the house without a sound. The puppies lay huddled together, their soft cries filling the room. Lala’s heart began to race. She knelt beside them, counting each small body again and again, hoping Tun would suddenly return.
As the minutes passed, worry crept over her like a cold shadow. Lala remembered how Grandma always seemed to know what to do when animals or people were in trouble. Without hesitation, she scooped the puppies into a warm basket, wrapped them in a soft cloth, and hurried across the yard to Grandma’s house.
Grandma was sitting near the window, threading a needle, when Lala burst in with wide, anxious eyes. “Grandma,” she said, trying not to cry, “Tun left, and the puppies haven’t been nursed yet. What if they’re hungry?” Grandma gently set aside her work and listened carefully, her face calm but attentive.
She checked the puppies one by one, placing a warm hand near their tiny bellies. “You did the right thing coming to me,” Grandma said softly. She explained that sometimes mother animals step away briefly, especially if they’re tired or frightened, but the babies still need warmth and comfort. Grandma showed Lala how to keep the puppies warm with a wrapped hot water bottle and how to gently stroke their backs to soothe them.
Together, they waited patiently. Lala watched the door every second, her worry slowly turning into hope. Before long, Tun appeared at the gate, moving quickly toward her puppies. She curled around them at once, and the familiar sounds of nursing filled the room.
Lala let out a long breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Grandma smiled and patted her shoulder. “Caring means noticing and asking for help,” she said. That day, Lala learned that love isn’t just worry—it’s action, patience, and trusting the wisdom of those who care beside you.
