I don’t know a thing about my father. I know about my mum, though. She was a German shepherd. From her I inherited my physical strength and in all modesty, some courage as well.

I can’t speak. At most I’ll bark, and only if strictly necessary. However, I’m no fool and I clearly understand certain things. For example, I understand that my owner is very proud of my shiny coat and he always shows it off to his friends as if it were his (the coat). Actually, he has very few hairs, he’s a sickly kind and gets ill quite often - but he does have a strong name: Aiace. They’ve named me Fufi. Imagine, the son of a German shepherd with a name like Fufi… never mind, let’s skip it…

My owner expects great loyalty from me.

We’re not expected to swear an oath of loyalty as the police would, becauseloyalty is in our blood, it comes naturally to us, although at times, it has its limits.

My owner and his wife (who, unlike my owner, is quite tough) went to the sea for a holiday, last month. Lucky them! But at this time, lord knows why, they decided to rid themselves of me: they chained me to a tree and left a note which stated: "Take care of this dog. His name is Fufi." They left me there, out in the open, and went on their way. By evening, an old man came by and said, "Poor beast!" and he untied me.

At first, I was rather hesitant, but then I understood that this old man was, in fact, a good person. He took me home and fed me a bowl of noodles and beans. Noodles and beans usually disgust me, but I was terribly hungry and found them delicious.

I’ve been living with the old man for thirty days. From time to time, I think of my previous owner. Yesterday, I could smell him at the market.

For heaven’s sake! Fidelity is a real chore for us! I really fought the instinct of following his track. "What do I do?" I wondered. I felt very uncertain. I was so torn, I felt a sort of nausea, but in the end, wisdom prevailed and I remained with the old man.