Jocky was a dog of midnight hues. His fur, a deep, glossy black, shone like polished obsidian in the sunlight. But instead of admiration, his striking coat often elicited frowns, whispers, and averted gazes. He’d overheard the comments, the casual remarks that stung like tiny thorns: “Black dogs are unlucky,” “He looks…ominous,” “He’s not very pretty.”
He didn’t understand. He was just a dog, full of playful energy and a heart overflowing with love. He loved chasing butterflies in the park, digging holes in the garden, and snuggling close to his human family on the couch. His fur, the very thing that made him different, was just a part of him, like his wagging tail and his wet nose.
He’d watch other dogs at the park, dogs with lighter coats, receiving admiring glances and gentle pats. He’d see children pointing at him, their parents quickly pulling them away, their faces etched with a mixture of fear and superstition. He’d feel a pang of sadness, a deep sense of loneliness.
He longed to be accepted, to be loved, to be seen for who he was, not for the color of his fur. He wanted to run and play with the other dogs, to feel the wind in his face and the joy of chasing a ball. He wanted to feel the warmth of a loving hand stroking his fur, the sound of a kind voice whispering his name.
But time and time again, he was met with rejection. People would cross the street to avoid him, their faces etched with discomfort. He’d try to wag his tail, to offer a friendly sniff, but they’d quickly pull away, reinforcing the belief that he was somehow different, somehow…unlucky.
He’d curl up in his bed at night, the sounds of the world outside filtering through the window. He’d think, Is it really just because of my fur? Is that all they see? The thought was a heavy weight on his heart, a constant reminder of his perceived flaws.
Despite the rejection, a small spark of hope remained within Jocky. He continued to greet his human family with enthusiastic tail wags and sloppy kisses. He still believed in the goodness of people, he still hoped that one day, someone would see past the color of his fur and recognize the loving, loyal companion he truly was. Jocky’s story is a poignant reminder of the harmful effects of prejudice and superstition. It’s a call for compassion and understanding, a reminder that true beauty lies within, and that every creature deserves to be loved, regardless of their outward appearance.
