Fhilcar Faunillani 
The street was gray, and the kitten was smaller than my hand. His eyes, half-closed, held a weight no creature so young should carry. People hurried past. Briefcases swung, shoes clicked, but no one stopped. The kitten sat alone, a tiny shadow against the curb. I was late, my mind racing with deadlines, but his …
The rain tapped softly on my porch. Two pairs of eyes, one wide, one wary, stared up from the dark. A mother cat, her fur damp, stood at my door. Behind her, a tiny kitten pressed close, shivering. I opened the door, and the mother led her baby inside. Their paws left faint prints on …
The cats huddled in the corner, eyes dull as forgotten coins. Their fur, once soft, clung to their bones like a memory of better days. In the zoo’s monkey enclosure, the air was sharp with chaos. Monkeys screeched, darting from branch to branch, their hands grabbing at the cats’ fur. Huanghuang and Baibai, the two …
The rain fell soft and steady, soaking the earth. A faint cry carried through the neighbor’s garden. It was sharp, desperate, almost lost in the patter of drops. My friend heard it first, his brow furrowing as he paused mid-sentence. We stepped outside, the air heavy with damp, and followed the sound. In a shadowed …
Her eyes flickered, barely open, in the shadow of a dumpster. A tiny dog, curled tight, forgotten. The summer sun burned the asphalt. Fern lay there, her body frail, her breath shallow. Nobody saw her. Nobody stopped. The world moved on, loud and fast, while she faded. Her fur was matted, her ribs sharp against …
The puppies’ soft cries echoed in the empty factory. Children, chasing shadows, found them huddled in a corner. Their tiny bodies shivered against the cold concrete. Patrick, the smallest, lay still, his eyes wide with trust. His back legs were gone, his front paws raw and tender. Piper and Peppi, his sisters, curled close, their …
The dog lay trembling by the highway. His small body barely moved under the weight of pain. Cars roared past, their tires spitting gravel. Some drivers slowed, glanced, then sped away. Others threw stones. Not out of cruelty, but fear. Fear of swerving, of crashing. The stones hit hard. His hind legs shook, weak and …
The puppy lay in the grass, trembling. His tiny body, barely two months old, was still. Ray’s legs twitched faintly. Flies buzzed around him. The air felt heavy with neglect. Three days passed. No one came. His shallow breaths barely stirred the summer heat. The neighbors saw it happen. A small dog, thrown from an …
Her eyes held a sadness too deep for words. Kama lay still, her burned paws trembling. The field had been a furnace, flames licking the sky. She ran through them, again and again, for her puppies. She couldn’t save them. Her body bore the cost—charred fur, raw skin, pain in every breath. Yet she clung …
The dog lay still on the roadside, her breath shallow. One eye, clouded and swollen, stared at nothing. Her fur was matted, clinging to her thin frame. A passing car slowed, then stopped. Hands reached out, gentle but unsure. She didn’t flinch, didn’t growl. She just waited, as if she’d been waiting forever. The man …
The dog’s eyes were dull, like old coins left in the rain. He slipped between market stalls, a shadow nobody claimed. His fur was patchy, matted with dust from the cobblestones. The market hummed with voices, the clatter of coins, the rustle of bags. Yet he moved unnoticed, a ghost among the living. Years ago, …
The old dog lay on the roadside, blood seeping into the dust. His eyes flickered, barely open, holding onto something no one else could see. I didn’t think when the call came. I ran. The street was quiet, the air heavy with the weight of what had happened. Julio was there, a skeleton draped in …
The old dog lay on rusted metal, his world two square meters of dirt. Valentin’s eyes, clouded with years, held no hope, only the weight of thirteen summers. He didn’t know grass. His legs traced circles, the only path his cage allowed. The man who owned him tossed water in a bucket, stale food in …
The cat was a shadow on the sidewalk, thin as a whisper. Her ribs pressed against her fur, sharp and desperate. I stopped walking. The street was empty, the dusk heavy with summer’s end. Her eyes, wide and yellow, caught mine. She didn’t move. Neither did I. A moment stretched between us, fragile as a …
The cat lay limp on the hot asphalt, saliva pooling beneath her chin. Her blue fur trembled, as if the August sun had stolen her strength. She didn’t move when we approached. My friend knelt beside her, his hands hovering, unsure. The parking lot was silent, save for the hum of distant cars. Her eyes, …