Luke didn’t know when his birthday was. Time was a blur of pain and hunger. He remembered a time when he was loved, when food was plentiful and belly rubs were a daily occurrence. But those memories were fading, replaced by the harsh reality of his present.
He was skin and bones, his ribs visible through a matted coat. His eyes, once bright with puppyhood, were now dull with despair. The scars on his body told a silent story of abuse, a testament to the cruelty he had endured.
Today was supposed to be different. A flicker of hope, a tiny spark in the darkness of his existence. But there was no cake, no presents, no joyous celebration. Instead, there was the gnawing ache of hunger and the cold indifference of the world.
He spent his days in a desolate alleyway, a place where he could hide from the world. The other dogs avoided him, their body language a clear message of rejection. He was a pariah, a creature to be feared or pitied.
As the sun began its descent, casting long shadows that seemed to mock his misery, Luke’s hunger intensified. He dreamed of a full belly, of food that filled him without leaving him wanting. He dreamed of a warm home, a soft bed, and the gentle touch of a human hand.
But these were just dreams, fleeting moments of escape from the harsh reality. The world was a cruel place, and he was a survivor, clinging to life by a thread. As night fell, he curled up in a cardboard box, his body trembling with cold and hunger. His birthday wish was simple: a full meal. Just one, to fill the emptiness in his belly and give him the strength to face another day.
Tomorrow was another day, and with it, another chance to survive. Until then, he would endure, his spirit unbroken by the cruelty he had faced.
