Kun didn’t know his age. Days blurred into weeks, weeks into months in a monotonous cycle of hunger, thirst, and loneliness. He lived in a small, concrete world, defined by the length of his chain. His home was a patch of barren earth under a tin roof, a meager shelter from the relentless sun and the unforgiving rain.
Today was his birthday, or so he assumed. It held no significance for him. Birthdays were for those who were loved, celebrated, and cherished. He was none of those.
The morning began as usual. The cold rain seeped through the thin fabric of his shelter, chilling him to the bone. His bones ached from the cold, and his stomach growled with hunger. There was no breakfast, no kind word, no gentle pat. Just the relentless downpour and the indifferent world beyond the chain.
He watched as the family emerged from the house, their faces etched with indifference. They moved through their day, oblivious to his silent plea for attention, for a morsel of food, for a shred of kindness. He was a mere object, a nuisance to be tolerated, not a living creature deserving of love.
Sometimes, when the anger in their eyes was too much to bear, he would cower, his tail tucked between his legs. He had learned to anticipate the blows, the curses, the kicks. It was a survival instinct, a desperate attempt to minimize the pain.
As the day wore on, the rain subsided, replaced by a humid, oppressive heat. The sun beat down on him, turning his world into a blazing inferno. He panted, his tongue lolling out in a futile attempt to cool down. Thirst gnawed at him, a relentless ache that consumed his thoughts.
He dreamed of a different life, a life filled with warmth, food, and love. He dreamed of a soft bed, a gentle touch, and the sound of laughter. But these were just dreams, fleeting moments of escape from the harsh reality of his existence.
As the sun began its descent, casting long shadows over his prison, Kun curled up on the cold, wet ground. He was just a dog, a creature born to love and be loved, condemned to a life of suffering. He closed his eyes, his heart heavy with despair. Another day had passed, another birthday marked by loneliness and pain. He was a forgotten soul, a prisoner of his own fate.
