The little dog had been wandering the streets for days, perhaps weeks. His once shiny coat was now matted with dirt, his eyes weary from exhaustion. Yet, as people passed by, there it was—the subtle wag of his tail, a desperate signal of hope, begging for attention. It wasn’t food he craved the most. It was a place to call home.
Stray dogs are a common sight in many cities, but there's always something deeply unsettling about seeing one so sick and vulnerable.
Every day, the streets were unforgiving. Most people walked past without a second glance, and others shooed him away as if his very presence was an inconvenience. His illness was hard to ignore—his fur patchy, his gait uneven—but even more striking was the resilience in his tiny wag, as if it was the only part of him that still believed in a better tomorrow.
The weather wasn’t kind, either. As a chilly autumn rain began to fall one evening, the stray dog huddled under a nearby bench, his frail body shivering against the cold. The rain soaked through his thinning coat, making him appear even smaller and more vulnerable. From his hiding spot, he watched as families hurried past, pulling their jackets tighter, seeking warmth indoors.
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