Black didn’t know his exact age. Time, in the concrete jungle, was a meaningless concept. But there was one date etched into his memory, a day as cold and desolate as the winter night it occurred. It was the day he was left alone, a tiny, trembling pup in a world of indifference. And today, he suspected, was that day.
He remembered the warmth of a soft bed, the comforting scent of his mother, the playful tussles with his siblings. Then, one chilling night, everything changed. He woke to a world of shadows, the silence broken only by the distant howl of a city. His family was gone, vanished without a trace, leaving him to fend for himself.
Now, years later, the pain of abandonment still lingered. Every rustle in the wind carried echoes of familiar footsteps, every shadow held the promise of a wagging tail. He’d learned to survive, to scavenge for scraps, to find shelter in abandoned buildings. But the wild spirit of a puppy was still trapped within the hardened exterior of a street dog.
Today, as the sun began its descent, casting long, mournful shadows, Black found a quiet corner. The city was a symphony of noise, but he heard only the silence within. He closed his eyes, and in the darkness, he saw flashes of a life that was no more. He saw his mother’s gentle eyes, the playful antics of his siblings, the warmth of a shared home.
A tear, a silent tribute to lost innocence, rolled down his cheek. He was a survivor, a fighter, but in the quiet moments, the loneliness was overwhelming. As the night enveloped him, he curled into a tight ball, seeking solace in the familiar ache of loss. And in the depths of that darkness, he made a silent vow: to never forget, to always hope, and to cherish the memories of a home that was no more.
