Lona didn’t know her exact age. Time was a blur of hunger, cold, and fear. She remembered nothing of a home, no warm milk, no playful littermates. She was found alone, a tiny, shivering creature in a world of indifference.
Today felt different. A flicker of hope, a faint whisper of longing, stirred within her. It was her birthday, she imagined. A day marked by joy, by celebration, by the warmth of a loving family. But for Lona, it was just another day of survival. She wandered the streets, her belly aching with hunger, her heart filled with a yearning she couldn’t name.
She longed for a home, a place where she belonged. She dreamed of a soft bed, a warm lap to curl up in, and the gentle touch of a loving hand. She imagined the sound of children’s laughter, the warmth of a family gathered around a table, and the unconditional love of a human companion.
As the sun began its descent, casting long, mournful shadows, Lona found a sheltered spot beneath a discarded cardboard box. The city was a cacophony of noise, but she heard only the silence within. She closed her eyes, and in the darkness, she saw images of a family, a home filled with love. It was a fleeting dream, a fragile hope in a world of harsh realities.
As sleep claimed her, she curled up tighter, seeking warmth in the illusion of a loving embrace. In the depths of her loneliness, she made a silent wish: to find a family, to be loved, to belong. And as she drifted off to sleep, she clung to that hope, a tiny spark in the darkness of her world.
