Fhilcar Faunillani 
The creek was shallow, its water cold and clear. A young dog sat on its muddy bottom, his eyes wide, searching the faces above. They stood in a loose circle, voices low, words drifting like leaves on the surface. No one moved. His gaze held theirs, soft and steady, asking without sound. The dog’s fur …
The street was cold, littered with forgotten things. Joseph lay there, a tangle of matted fur. His eyes, barely visible, held a flicker of something alive. Rescuers knelt beside him, their hands trembling. They couldn’t tell if he had all his legs. The dirt and neglect had buried him, like a discarded object. A woman …
The puppy’s eyes caught the dawn’s first glow. He trembled, small and alone, on a quiet road. His paws skittered across the pavement. A sudden noise—a car, a shout—sent him bolting. He dove into a thicket, his heart racing. We saw him there, crouched low, his fur matted with fear. A wound on his back …
The dog lay panting on the cracked earth, her tongue lolling in the searing heat. Her eyes, dull with despair, searched for shade that wasn’t there. The sun beat down at 40 degrees Celsius. It was too much for her frail body. She was alone, abandoned by the man who once called her his. A …
The dog lay against a cracked wall in Albacete, Spain. His eyes, dim but alive, watched the empty road. No one came for him. Days passed, maybe weeks, his body thin, his fur matted with dust. Chains held him to the stone, rusted links biting into his neck. He ate what the wind brought—scraps, dead …
The dog lay still in the hallway. His eyes followed shadows passing by. People stepped over him. Their shoes clicked on the cold floor. He didn’t move. His fur was matted, heavy with dirt. His body ached, thin and frail. He waited. The Weight of Being Unseen Chernysha had a home once. It was long …
The garden was silent, save for the faint rustle of leaves. A dog lay there, alone, her body trembling against the cold earth. Akita’s eyes held a flicker of life, barely. Two days she’d been abandoned, left to fade in someone’s forgotten yard. Her fur was matted, her body frail. The stench of decay clung …
The dog’s eyes met ours through the dust. They begged without words, soft and steady. We stood on a slope of cracked earth, where chains tethered three lives to despair. The Pitbull lay still, his ribs sharp against his skin. His gaze held no blame, only a quiet plea. Beside him, two others—a Mops and …
The black dog lay still, his nose twitching toward an empty bowl. His eyes, clouded and sightless, searched for something he’d never find. Bela, the brown dog, nudged him gently. Her own eyes, dim with age, watched him with a quiet knowing. She shuffled across the oil-slicked parking lot, her thin legs trembling, and dropped …
The puppy sat alone by the roadside, shivering in the dusk. His small body hunched over a pile of trash, searching for scraps. Cars roared past, their lights cutting through the gray. He didn’t flinch. He just kept digging, his tiny paws sifting through the mess. I stopped the car. My heart caught in my …
Her eyes caught the morning light, wide and searching. A cat, heavy with unborn kittens, lingered at the shop’s door. She didn’t meow. She didn’t need to. Her slow steps along the entrance spoke of a need too deep for sound. I watched her, a stranger carrying life, looking for a place to rest. My …
The kitten was so small it fit in her palm. Its eyes were still sealed shut, its fur stiff with neglect. She found the litter in the bushes behind the office. The mother cat, a familiar stray she’d fed for months, had carried her newborns there, one by one. The young woman didn’t touch them …
The bicycle wheels hummed softly. Something stirred on the cracked asphalt ahead. Two kittens, smaller than mice, crouched in the dusk. One sprawled on the road, fearless in its tiny defiance. The other huddled beneath a utility pole, eyes wide, trembling. I stopped, my shadow falling over them. Their mews were faint, like whispers from …
The cat’s eyes caught the morning light, wide and trembling under the car. She tried to answer my call, her voice a faint, broken mew. Her name wasn’t yet Xiao Bi Ga. She was just a shadow, curled tight against the tire, her small body shivering. Her paw, raw and open, glistened in the sun. …
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 …