Befin knew the drill. The hurried footsteps, the averted gaze, the subtle shift in posture as people veered away. He was a stray, a shadow flitting through alleyways and under parked cars, and shunning was a familiar part of his existence. He didn’t bark, didn’t beg, didn’t even make eye contact. He’d learned that it was best to remain unseen, unheard.
He’d watch from the fringes of parks and busy streets, observing the interactions between humans and their canine companions. He’d see the happy dogs bounding ahead on leashes, their tails wagging furiously, their owners’ faces beaming with affection. He’d hear the gentle coos, the playful commands, the loving words. A pang of longing would tug at his heart.
He’d seen other strays try to approach people, only to be met with harsh words, a quick kick, or the sharp end of a rolled-up newspaper. He’d witnessed the fear in their eyes, the dejection in their slumped shoulders as they retreated back to the shadows. He didn’t want to experience that.
He’d find refuge in quiet corners, beneath overflowing dumpsters or in the sheltered alcoves of abandoned buildings. He’d curl up into a tight ball, his head resting on his paws, trying to ward off the chill of the night. He’d think about the warmth of a loving home, the comfort of a soft bed, the simple security of belonging.
He’d often dream of a kind hand stroking his fur, a gentle voice whispering his name. He’d dream of running through a field of tall grass, the wind whipping through his fur, his heart filled with joy. But then he’d wake up to the cold reality of the streets, the rumble of traffic, the distant sirens.
He was used to being shunned, used to being ignored, used to being invisible. It was a lonely existence, a constant struggle for survival. But even in the depths of his loneliness, a tiny spark of hope remained.
He’d still lift his head when he heard footsteps approaching, his tail giving a tentative wag. He couldn’t help it. It was a primal instinct, a deep-seated yearning for connection. He yearned for a different life, a life where he wasn’t just a nameless stray, a life where he was seen, valued, and loved.
He knew it was a long shot, a slim chance in a world that seemed to have forgotten him. But Befin still hoped, deep down, that one day, someone would see past his scruffy exterior, past his stray status, and recognize the loyal, loving heart that beat within him. He still hoped, against all odds, to be accepted, just like other dogs, and finally know the warmth of a loving home.
