Fhilcar Faunillani 
The kitten’s eyes were sealed shut, tiny and fragile in my palm. I held her, trembling, afraid she wouldn’t last. Her fur was a faint gray, barely there, like dust on a forgotten shelf. I warmed a bottle of milk, my hands clumsy, unsure. She drank, her small mouth searching, and I felt her heartbeat …
The cat limped alone in the dusk, her bones sharp under thin fur. I stopped, heart heavy, watching her wobble. She was small, too light for an adult, her blue eyes dull and sticky. Each step seemed to cost her something precious. I knelt on the cold pavement, her faint mew barely reaching me. She …
The old cat sat under the tree, his front paws gone. His eyes held a quiet story. The village was small, tucked against a mountain. Autumn leaves fell, and the air smelled of earth. Kong Kong, the cat, waited each day at the same spot. His gray fur was thin, his body frail. He didn’t …
The old wooden porch creaked under my weight. A stray cat, thin and gray, stared up at me, her eyes like small, tired moons. She’d been coming for a week now. I’d left scraps of chicken, a bowl of water. She ate quickly, always glancing over her shoulder. Her fur was matted, her steps careful. …
The rain fell softly, tapping the pavement beneath the apartment stairs. A cat, gray and trembling, curled tight, her eyes wide with the pain of her first labor. She was alone, or so she thought. I stood a few steps away, my coat damp, watching her struggle. Her breaths came fast, shallow, like she was …
The sun hung low, casting long shadows over the cracked pavement. Frankie lay still, his breaths shallow, each one a small fight against the pain that clung to him like damp earth. His fur, once soft and golden, was matted with dirt and blood. His eyes, hollowed by hurt, stared at nothing. A neighbor passed …
The cemetery was quiet, heavy with the weight of unspoken grief. A small cry broke the stillness, sharp and trembling, like a heart cracking open. It came from a puppy, barely bigger than a hand, curled in the grass between weathered headstones. Her fur was matted, her eyes wet with something more than tears. She …
The old dog sat by the roadside, his eyes fixed on the empty street. Rain fell, but he didn’t move. His fur, patchy and thin, clung to his bones, and his few remaining teeth ached with every breath. He was waiting. Always waiting. For someone who never came. A man lived nearby, in a small …
The old house stood empty, its windows dark. A mother dog lay in the dust, her pups beside her. Her eyes caught the morning light, tired but fierce. She’d been waiting, guarding, hoping for someone to come. Three pups curled close, their bellies swollen, their fur patchy. They were hungry, always hungry. She licked their …
The rain fell soft, soaking the leaves. A small shape huddled beneath a roadside tree. She was a cat, curled tight, her fur matted with mud and leaves. Her eyes, wide and green, held a quiet ache. I stopped my truck, delivery forgotten. She didn’t move, didn’t meow. Just looked at me, shivering, as if …
The kitten’s cry was faint, trembling under the porch. I stopped, my keys still in hand. After work, the house felt too still. That soft mewling pulled me back outside, down the steps, toward the overgrown bushes by the fence. A tiny black shape huddled there, barely bigger than my palm. Her eyes caught the …
The gray cat’s paws stirred the dust. His friend lay still, her breath shallow. He nudged her, urgent but gentle. The road was quiet, the air heavy with summer. Her fur, soft and dappled, caught the fading light. She didn’t move. His eyes, wide and green, held a fear that needed no words. He pressed …
Her eyes caught mine through the frost-covered alley, wide and shivering. A broken leg dangled, useless, as she crouched in the snow. She was so thin her ribs pressed against her skin, her fur patchy and shaved by the winter’s cruelty. Yet she didn’t run. She looked at me, trusting, as if she knew I’d …
The kitten lay still under the car. Its tiny body barely moved, eyes clouded with pain. A man crouched low, his breath catching. He saw the matted fur, the trembling leg. The kitten didn’t run. It just stared, wide-eyed, too weak to flee. He wanted to reach out, but hesitated. Two cats waited at home. …
The cat lay stiff on the leaves, eyes shut tight. Her small chest heaved, each breath a struggle. A stranger’s voice broke the silence. “Hit by a car. Left here to die.” My heart sank. I knelt beside her, the forest floor cold under my knees. The kitten, barely more than fur and bones, seemed …