By daily 
a tiny puppy sat alone by the side of a dusty road. His fur, once soft and golden, was now matted with dirt, and his eyes, wide and soulful, held a sadness too big for his small frame. He had no name—just a heart full of hope.
Days had passed since the boy who once called him “Buddy” left him there. The puppy didn’t understand why. He remembered the warmth of the boy’s hand, the laughter, the playtime, and the gentle pats on his head. But now, the road stretched endlessly before him, and the boy’s scent had long faded into the wind.
Every car that passed stirred hope in the puppy’s heart. He would stand up, his tail wagging slowly, expecting to see the familiar face that once smiled down at him. But the cars sped by, leaving him behind in a swirl of dust and silence. He would sit down again, his heart heavy, yet still holding onto the dream of being loved again.
As the night fell and the stars blinked into the sky, the puppy curled into a small ball, shivering from the cold. He closed his eyes, dreaming of a family who would hold him close, protect him, and make him feel safe. In his dreams, he could hear his own voice—a silent voice, filled with longing and a simple wish: “I just want to be loved.”