As I lay curled up in my corner, the cold ground beneath me made me shiver. I could feel the ache in my body, a reminder of the days I spent wandering the streets, searching for food, and dodging the feet of those who walked by. I watched as people passed, their faces full of laughter and joy, completely oblivious to my existence. It made me wonder: *Do I look so ugly that everyone avoids me?*
You see, I have this condition that makes my skin sore and swollen. It’s not my fault, but I can’t help but feel ashamed. My once soft fur is now patchy and rough, and the sores on my face make it hard for me to look up at anyone. I remember a time when I was just a fluffy puppy, full of life and energy, my tail wagging at the sight of a kind face. But now, when I muster the courage to approach someone, I see them flinch or look away. It hurts more than the pain in my body.
I often hear whispers among the people around me. “Look at that poor dog. He must be sick.” “I wouldn’t want to touch him; he looks diseased.” Those words sting like a thousand needles. They don’t know me; they don’t know the love I have to give, the loyalty that runs through my veins, or the joy I could bring if only someone would give me a chance. But instead, I remain invisible, a shadow among the living.
One day, as I was lying near a park bench, I saw a little girl with golden curls and bright eyes. She skipped past me, her laughter like music. I wanted to wag my tail, to bark and show her how much I adored her innocence, but I held back. I feared her reaction. *Would she scream? Would she cry?* Just then, she paused, turned around, and walked toward me. My heart raced. She knelt down, her small hands reaching out to touch my cheek gently.
“Are you okay, doggie?” she asked, her voice soft and sweet. In that moment, I felt seen. I wanted to tell her I was okay, that I just needed a little love. But all I could do was blink back tears and lay still, hoping she wouldn’t see my scars.
Instead of recoiling, she smiled at me. “You’re not ugly. You’re just different!” My heart swelled at her words. For the first time in a long time, someone saw beyond my appearance. She didn’t see the sores or the patches of fur; she saw me.
That encounter sparked a flicker of hope within me. I began to realize that perhaps my worth wasn’t tied to how I looked, but rather to the love I held inside. Slowly, I learned to embrace my journey, even the difficult parts. I may be a dog with scars and a face that tells a story of hardship, but I also carry the spirit of resilience and a heart yearning for connection.
So, while I still wonder if I look ugly, I also remind myself that true beauty lies in kindness, compassion, and the bonds we create. I may be alone most days, but I hold onto the hope that one day, someone will look past my appearance and see the loyal companion I truly am, ready to fill their life with unconditional love. Until then, I will continue to persevere, waiting for the moment when my heart can finally be set free to love and be loved in return.
