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My name is Soda

They found me wandering around. I was taken to a place filled with dog smells, metallic noises, endless barking called Proanima. I've been waiting. Figured my family would come get me.

But no one came.

So I've been "adopted". I didn't really understand what it meant, but I wagged my tail at every turn, trying to be the nicest I could be. I wanted to be seen. I just wanted to be loved

Days went by, all the same. I was in an enclosure, with nothing to do. No games, no challenges, no long walks to feel the world. Sometimes I get pulled out. Three times, four times a day... fifteen minutes at a time, in a gated field. Fifteen minutes to run, to breathe, to try to forget... before going back behind bars.

It wasn't enough .

In my head, something's starting to change. The energy I've been holding within, without being able to spend, has become heavy. Frustrating. I was spinning in circles. I was itching. I was barking. Not because I've been mean... but because I didn't know what to do with everything I felt.

I needed to learn. I needed help to understand, calm down, use my energy differently. But here, it was said to be "a transition place." So nobody was teaching me nothing. The workout didn't exist.

little by little humans started avoiding me The volunteers were running out of me. Only a few people were entitled. They said I had become difficult. Someone called me a "f*cking lunatic". Less I was taken out... the more I was agitated. And the more agitated I was... Less they wanted to take me out.

I found myself more lonely than before

I didn't understand what I had done wrong.

I have always been the same dog. Who wanted to run, play, learn, love. But nobody was seeing that. They only saw my reactions, my frustration, my stress.

One day, everything stopped.

We decided I became a risk.

So they put me to sleep.

I didn't get the chance to learn to be better. I didn't have the chance to show who I could have been, with a little patience, enrichment, understanding.

Yet, it all could have been different.

With time. With games. With a workout in. With someone to guide me instead of abandoning myself.

My name was Soda

And I was a good dog. 

My name is Soda. I am sharing my story in hopes of bringing awareness to the plight that many animals face in Proanima. They found me alone, left to fend for myself. I ended up in a place overwhelmed with the scent of other dogs, bombarded by metallic noises and the never-ending sounds of barking. It’s called Proanima – a place I hoped would be temporary until my family came to get me. But as days turned into weeks, I realized they were never coming.

I've been labeled "adopted." At first, I didn't understand what that meant, so I wagged my enthusiastic tail at every passerby, hoping to be noticed, wishing for the love we all need. Yet, every day felt the same. My world was confined to a small enclosure, devoid of joy, play, or mental stimulation.

It's not just me who suffers here. Pregnant dogs and cats, any animal deemed troublesome, they face an even harsher fate within the walls of Proanima. This situation is not just about one abandoned dog; it is a representation of a misguided system that prioritizes convenience over compassion.

Proanima's management needs to implement humane treatment protocols for all animals and establish a no-kill policy, especially for vulnerable animals like pregnant pets. There should be enrichment programs to keep our minds healthy and adoptive partnerships to help us find loving forever homes.

Join me in calling for change. Demand humane treatment at Proanima by signing this petition. Together, we can ensure a future where animals are seen, heard, and cherished.