I sit here on the side of the road, watching people walk by, all of them looking past me as if I’m invisible. My body is small, and my fur is patchy and unkempt. I have a limp in my back leg from a birth defect, and there’s a large, heavy tumor pressing against my side. Every step I take feels like a struggle. I can’t walk as other dogs do, and the pain sometimes becomes unbearable. But I’m still here, hoping for a moment of kindness from someone, anyone.

The city is busy and loud. I try to approach people now and then, to show them that despite my broken body, I have a heart full of love to give. Yet, most people turn away. Some even shoo me off, as if I’m something dirty or dangerous. I wonder to myself, *”Am I so different? Am I so undeserving of love?”*

Each night, I find a quiet spot to lie down, somewhere sheltered where I can close my eyes and rest. But sleep doesn’t come easily. Hunger gnaws at my stomach, and the ache in my leg grows stronger. I curl up, trying to make myself as small as possible to stay warm. Even in my dreams, I see images of warmth and love—a soft hand stroking my fur, a kind voice calling me by a name, the feeling of belonging.

One day, as I lie in the same spot by the corner of a bustling street, a little girl sees me and stops. Her eyes are filled with curiosity and a gentle kindness I haven’t seen in a long time. She kneels down and whispers softly, “Hello, little dog.” Her mother pulls her away, but in that brief moment, my heart swells. For once, someone looked at me not with disgust or pity but with warmth.

I wish I could tell someone how much I long to be loved, how much it would mean to me to be cared for. Maybe one day, someone will see past my broken body and love me for the dog I am on the inside—a dog who has endured so much and yet still hopes for something better.

*“I am a disabled dog; is there any love out there for me?”* This question echoes in my heart as I watch the world pass by. Despite everything, I hold onto a sliver of hope. Maybe, just maybe, there’s someone out there who can see past my scars, my limp, and my tired eyes. Someone who will give me a chance to show them that, even with all my imperfections, I have a heart full of gratitude and love to share.