Fhilcar Faunillani 
(You’ll find cute cat videos at the end of the article) The morning light spills soft through the window. Xiang Yu, a gray tabby, lies curled in her nest, her breaths steady but tired. Her eyes, wide and watchful, hold a quiet strength. Seven tiny kittens, barely a week old, press against her warmth. Their …
The kitten’s paws barely touched the ground. She stumbled, eyes wide, searching for something lost. Her fur was a soft gray, dusted with dirt. We found her in the alley, alone, shivering. The subtitles said she was separated from her mother. We looked for hours, calling softly, but no cat came. She followed us, hesitant, …
The rain fell hard, soaking the earth, and the dog tugged at his leash. A small, wet shape moved in the grass, barely a shadow, following us. It was a kitten, no bigger than my hand, her fur matted with mud. She trailed us, fearless, even as the dog sniffed curiously. Her eyes were crusted …
The puppy stood alone in the garden. His tiny paws trembled against the grass. He moved slowly, pausing every few steps. His eyes darted, unsure, searching for something familiar. I watched from the porch, my heart catching at his hesitation. Was he lost? Had he ever known a home? A Shy Heart Under the Car …
The trash bin stood alone, dusted with frost. Inside, a plastic bag whimpered softly. It was four degrees outside, the air sharp enough to sting my knuckles. I lifted the bag, my hands shaking, and saw them—six newborn puppies, barely a day old, wrapped like discarded things. Their cries were faint, not just from hunger …
The dog’s eyes were sharp, searching. She stood in the trash-strewn alley, her ribs pressing against thin fur. She nosed through the garbage. Plastic bags crinkled under her paws. Her ears flicked at distant sounds—car horns, voices, the hum of a summer evening. She was alone, but not alone. Somewhere, her pups waited. She moved …
The morning was gray, and a dog’s desperate bark broke the stillness. Behind a weathered fence, Alpha waited, thin and trembling, for someone to notice. His chain was short, his world smaller. A concrete corner, stained and cold, was his bed. Scraps of trash clung to the edges, and he lay there, forgotten. His eyes, …
The greyhound lay under a tree, her body still. Her eyes held a question no one answered. Dust coated her thin frame in Marchigue, Chile. She was Sarita, left like forgotten trash. Her legs, stiff and frail, barely twitched. Wounds festered, open to the sun. Passersby glanced, then turned away. No one stopped. No one …
The dog trembled in the corner. Her eyes, wide and wary, followed every shadow. Catarina hid in a crumbling building. The streets had been unkind. People, crueler still. She crouched low, her fur matted, her body tense. Every sound made her flinch. A can clattered outside. She froze. Someone shouted. She pressed herself deeper into …
The puppy limped through the dust, his small body trembling under a sky too wide. Vultures circled above, patient shadows waiting for his strength to fade. His front leg dragged, useless, torn by something sharp and cruel. Pain flared with every step, but he kept moving. Fear clung to him like the heat, heavy and …
The dog curled into a corner of the public restroom, shivering. His hind legs, broken and useless, trailed behind him like forgotten burdens. Cold cement pressed against his thin frame. The air hung heavy with damp despair. He was alone, a stray in a small town, unnoticed by hurried feet. His eyes, wide and pleading, …
The dog’s eyes caught the sunlight, wide and pleading. His tail thumped against the dry earth. He stood on two legs, straining against the rusted chain. It was short, barely a meter long. His world was this tree, this patch of dirt, this broken shelter of splintered boards. Flies buzzed around a bowl of spoiled …
The dog’s eyes locked on the meat stall, hungry and unblinking. My heart ached for him. His thin frame trembled under patchy fur. I bought a bag of chicken livers, warm and heavy, and knelt to offer them. He snatched each piece, ravenous, but kept his distance, wary eyes darting. He was starving, yet fear …
The puppy lay in the dirt, trembling. His eyes, wide and sad, searched for something kind. He was alone. The streets were cruel, empty of comfort. People passed, their steps quick, their faces turned. No one stopped. His small body, barely eight months old, was a map of pain—skin cracked, bones sharp beneath. Yet, he …
The rain fell soft and steady, soaking the cardboard box. Inside, a tiny white puppy shivered. His brother, hidden in a nearby bush, whimpered faintly, too weak to move. They were alone, barely a month old, left behind at 1:15 a.m. under a streetlight’s dim glow. The shelter’s camera caught a man’s shadow, fleeting, as …