Fhilcar Faunillani 
The old dog lay still on the cold shelter floor. His eyes, cloudy with age, held a faint flicker of hope. Grisha’s fur was matted, his body thin. The shelter was all he’d known for years. Once, he had a family. They left him behind. The memory of their voices faded long ago. Now, fever …
The wind howled at minus sixteen. Busya curled tight around her four newborn pups. Their small bodies shivered on the concrete. The gas station’s neon lights flickered above. Her friend, a sturdy black dog, stood guard. His eyes scanned the shadows. He was a protector, loyal, his fur matted from years of watching over this …
The kitten lay trembling by the roadside, too weak to lift its head. Mulan knelt beside it, her heart catching at the sight of its shallow breaths. The little creature’s eyes barely flickered. Its frail body, matted with dirt, seemed to fade into the dusk. Mulan’s hands shook as she scooped it up, feeling the …
The kitten’s mew was faint, trembling under the school’s stone steps. Joshua paused, his daughter’s hand in his. He knelt, peering into the shadows. A tiny, gray creature stared back, one leg bent wrong, fur matted with dirt. Its eyes, wide and glassy, held a question too big for its small body. Joshua’s daughter, Linda, …
The grass was still, damp with morning dew. A small, gray cat lay motionless, barely breathing. Roland’s old truck rumbled down the country road. His eyes caught the shape in the grass. Something about it tugged at him—a faint pull, like a whisper from the past. He slowed, stopped, and stepped out, his boots crunching …
The kitten’s cries were faint, like a whisper lost in the evening breeze. Oli stopped, her heart catching the sound before her ears did. She stood on the sidewalk, her work bag heavy on her shoulder. The neighborhood was quiet, the kind of quiet that settles over houses as families turn inward for the night. …
The dog lay in the alley, her eyes dull with hunger. A woman’s voice broke the silence. “Want some food, sweetheart? Don’t be afraid.” The words were soft, like a whisper of hope. Her ribs pressed against her thin fur. She watched the woman, too scared to move. Those sad eyes followed every step, every …
The dog lay in the shadow of a rusted car, her ribs sharp against her sides. Her eyes, soft and searching, held a flicker of hope amid the dust. She wandered the lot of an auto shop near my house. The men there tossed her scraps sometimes, but not enough. She was thin, her fur …
The dog lay in the alley, her eyes dull with fear. I knelt, and she flinched. Her fur was matted, clinging to her thin frame like damp cloth. The air carried a heavy scent, one that made others turn away. I didn’t. I couldn’t. Her gaze held mine, a silent plea beneath the grime. I …
The snow crunched underfoot, sharp and cold. A tiny puppy shivered, her breath a faint cloud. Her front paw dangled, useless, swaying like a broken branch. She limped, eyes wide with fear. The world around her was vast, white, and merciless, swallowing her small frame. She was alone. No one heard her silent cries. Her …
Angel’s fur was matted, his eyes dull. He lay on the cold porch, waiting. The house was empty now. His owner, the man who scratched behind his ears and shared quiet evenings, was gone. The daughter came, locked the door, and left. She Platform didn’t look back. Angel stayed, his thin body pressed against the …
Her small body trembled on the cold kennel floor. No blanket, no warmth, just a fragile puppy struggling to move. The call came late, after midnight. A voice, hurried and sharp, described a puppy in trouble. Neurological issues, they said. I watched the video they sent, her tiny frame writhing on metal bars. My chest …
The sun hung low, casting gold over the fairground. Tumba’s tail wagged, brushing the dust. Children laughed, their voices weaving through the hum of rides. She darted between them, a small brown dog with eyes that trusted everyone. Then, a shadow fell. A man, unsteady, raised a hammer. Parents turned away, shielding young faces. Tumba …
The dog sat by the gate. His eyes, clouded with pain, never left the door. Manguito’s fur was patchy, his body frail. Once, he’d been a family’s joy. Now, abandoned, he waited. His mouth, raw from worms, ached with every breath. Scars crisscrossed his small frame. Hunger clawed at his belly, but he stayed. The …
The stars were sharp above the Oregon mountains. I drove toward my campsite, craving silence. Then, something small stirred on the road. Not debris—a puppy, curled tight, barely alive. I pulled over, heart heavy. His ribs jutted out, his fur matted with filth. Tired eyes met mine. He didn’t run. He couldn’t. Fear held him, …