Bin was a stray dog, a creature of the city streets. He had lived there for as long as he could remember, his days a blur of scavenging, sleeping in abandoned buildings, and dodging cars. Today was his birthday, a day that most dogs celebrated with treats, toys, and lots of love. But for Bin, it was just another day.
It was a particularly cold day, with a biting wind that whipped through the city streets. Bin shivered as he huddled under a bridge, trying to stay warm. He was hungry, tired, and alone.
He wandered the streets, his tail drooping low. There was no one to wish him a happy birthday, no one to offer him a kind word. He had grown accustomed to the indifference of the world, but on his birthday, it felt especially harsh.
Bin stopped by a park where he often saw people playing with their dogs. He watched them with a pang of envy. Their dogs were showered with affection, their tails wagging with joy. Bin longed for the companionship he had never known.
Bin was a survivor, a dog who had learned to endure hardship. But on his birthday, even he couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of sadness. As he drifted off to sleep, he dreamed of a home, of a family who loved him. It was a dream that he knew was unlikely to ever come true, but it was a dream that kept him going, day after day.
