Fhilcar Faunillani 
The dog limped along the dusty road, her eyes dull with hunger. She stopped, sniffed the air, and looked at us with quiet caution. We saw her first at dawn, near a crumbling stone wall. Her fur was matted, tangled with dirt, and her left leg dragged painfully. Locals said she came daily, begging for …
The retriever lay still on the roadside, his breath shallow, his golden fur matted. His eyes, half-closed, held a flicker of something unbroken, something alive. He was alone, left to fade under a gray sky. A passerby saw him, heart sinking, and called for help. The rescue team arrived, their hands gentle, their voices soft. …
The puppy lay still in the cardboard box. His small body shivered against the frostbitten dawn. A neighbor’s voice trembled as she pointed to the icy metal containers. “He was there all night.” The rescuer knelt, heart sinking, eyes tracing the fragile form barely breathing. Snow dusted the box’s edges. The puppy’s fur was matted, …
The sun hung low, casting long shadows on the cracked pavement. A small brown puppy shivered, her eyes wide with trust despite the pain. Cars rolled by, their hum a steady drone. No one stopped. The world moved on, indifferent. But one man saw her, his heart catching at the sight of her trembling frame. …
The dog lay trembling on the roadside, her eyes wide with fear. A hind leg dangled, broken and useless, as cars roared past. She was alone, abandoned, her soft whimpers swallowed by the hum of tires. A passerby sent a photo at 8:45 a.m. It reached us through a chain of quiet kindness. The image …
The puppy lay still in the trash bin, his small body curled against a tattered teddy bear. His eyes, half-closed, held a quiet pain that pierced the morning light. The street was silent, save for thesns skittering across the pavement. Elders in the neighborhood had seen him, a fragile creature tossed away like garbage. Their …
The old dog lay in the corner, his fur matted and thin. His eyes, once bright, held a quiet sorrow. He had guarded his owner’s home for ten years. Loyal, unwavering, he stood watch through cold nights and long days. But loyalty was not returned. Neglected, forgotten, he was left in a shadowed pen, no …
The dog lay still, a crumpled shadow on the roadside. His eyes, crusted shut, held no light. Flies buzzed around him, drawn to the stench of decay. He was so thin, like paper folded too many times. Someone knelt beside him, offering food, but he couldn’t lift his head. Not a whimper, not a twitch. …
The grass was cold under his broken body. His eyes, wide and trembling, held a silent plea. Blood seeped into the earth. The car’s taillights faded into the night. She drove away—a veterinarian who left him to die. Two strangers saw it all. Their voices shook as they called for help. They knelt beside him, …
The dog lay in the alley, her ribs sharp against her skin. Her eyes, dull with hunger, watched the restaurant door. She didn’t move when the waiter shooed her. She just looked, hoping for a scrap, a kind glance. The door slammed shut. Her head sank to the pavement, too weak to hold up. She …
The old man’s stick fell hard. A small puppy crumpled under its weight, her tiny body trembling on the cold ground. Her whimpers were soft, barely audible. Passersby stopped, their voices sharp with urgency, trying to pull the man back. He didn’t listen. His eyes burned with something dark, something that saw no value in …
The phone rang at dawn, a woman’s shy voice on the line. “Can you help a puppy?” she asked, her words trembling with worry. A small dog had followed her, limping, hungry, alone. I drove through the early morning mist, the world still half-asleep. The woman stood by a quiet road, her hands clasped tightly. …
The old dog lay trembling in the cold. His eyes, clouded with time, still searched for someone who wasn’t there. Wenwen was a shadow of himself. His brittle body curled tight against the wind. Locals tossed scraps, draped a blanket over him. They saw his heart, broken but beating, and called for help. The rescue …
The puppy lay stiff, his tiny body locked in pain. His eyes, bright with fight, begged silently. Bosley was six weeks old, alone in a world too big for him. A stray, one of a forgotten litter, he wandered until a silent enemy found him. Tetanus, a cruel thief, crept into his small frame. No …
The puppy limped through the morning mist, tail wagging like a faint metronome. His eyes, one swollen shut, held a spark that tugged at my heart. We saw him first on a Saturday, trailing two boys down a sunlit path. His tiny paws danced, chasing their laughter. My family smiled from the car, charmed by …