Fruit was a name given to him by a kind old woman who found him shivering under a cardboard box one cold night. She had no place for a puppy, but she couldn’t bear to leave him there. She gave him a slice of bread, which he devoured greedily, and then named him Fruit, hoping the name would bring him luck.
Today was Fruit’s birthday. The sun, oblivious to his plight, shone brightly, casting long shadows that danced with the dust particles. But for Fruit, there was no joy in the sunlight. He was alone, hungry, and cold. The world was a vast, indifferent place. He remembered the warmth of the old woman’s hands as she fed him, the soft touch of her worn coat against his tiny body. Those were distant memories now, like dreams from another life.
His small body was covered in dirt and his ribs were visible through his thin coat. He wandered the streets, his tail tucked between his legs. People passed by, their eyes fixed on their phones or lost in their own thoughts. No one saw the small, trembling creature at their feet. He longed for a warm home, a soft bed, and a bowl of food. He yearned for the unconditional love of a human, a touch that would tell him he was safe and cherished.
As the day wore on, the sun began its descent, casting the world in hues of orange and purple. Fruit found a sheltered spot beneath an old, gnarled tree. He curled up into a tight ball, trying to conserve his warmth. The city noises gradually faded, replaced by the soft rustling of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl.
Alone in the gathering darkness, Fruit whimpered softly. He thought about the old woman, about the warmth of her hands, the kindness in her eyes. A single tear rolled down his small face, disappearing into the dirt. As sleep claimed him, he dreamed of a home filled with laughter, a place where he was loved and cherished. A place where birthdays were celebrated with joy and cake. But when he woke, the harsh reality of his life would be waiting for him. And so, another day would begin, another day of searching for something that seemed increasingly impossible: a home.
