My world is small—a tight circle of cold walls in the shelter, where time blurs and loneliness becomes my closest companion. I wasn’t born this way; I remember the days when I could run with ease, my four legs carrying me across fields and patches of sunlight. But that was before the accident. It happened so suddenly, one minute, I was whole, and the next, I was in pain, feeling parts of me that would never be the same. Now, with only two legs, I can barely stand, let alone chase the dreams I once had.
Life at the shelter is safe but confined. People come and go, their footsteps echoing down the hall, their laughter mingling with the excited barks of other dogs. They stop by my pen sometimes, looking down with eyes full of sympathy, but not for long. I see the hesitation in their faces, the pity quickly turning into discomfort. They whisper words like “broken,” “pitiful,” or simply shake their heads, moving on to another dog, one that’s “whole.” And so, I wait. Every day, I hope that maybe someone will look beyond my broken body, that someone will see the heart that still beats strong inside me, the spirit that hasn’t given up.
The days blend into nights, and I curl up on the cold floor, trying to keep warm, trying to feel something other than emptiness. The shelter workers are kind, but they’re busy with many other animals who are easier to care for. I understand; I don’t blame them. But each day, the loneliness grows a little stronger. Sometimes I dream of what it would feel like to be loved, to feel the warmth of a gentle hand stroking my fur, a voice speaking to me, not out of pity, but out of care. Just once, I want to feel like I’m not defined by what I’ve lost.
I am not just a body with two missing legs; I am a heart that still beats, a soul that yearns to belong. Despite the pain and the cold walls around me, I cling to the hope that someone, somewhere, will see beyond my scars. That they will take a chance on me, even if I’m not whole, even if I can’t walk like I used to. I long for the day when someone will open these doors and bring me home, where my imperfections will be met with love, not fear. Until then, I wait in the silence, holding onto hope with all that I have left.
