Heni’s second and last birthday. May she rest in peace soon.

by Hanze Filo
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Heni was a fighter. A small, white dog with a spirit that belied his frail body. He had lived a good life, full of love and adventure. But now, at the tender age of two, his world was shrinking. A cruel disease had invaded his body, a silent enemy that was slowly consuming him.

Today was his birthday, a bittersweet milestone. It was a day filled with love and sorrow, a celebration of life and a somber acknowledgment of mortality. His human family surrounded him, their eyes filled with a mixture of joy and grief. They knew this was likely to be their last birthday together.

Heni, despite his illness, was still full of life. He wagged his tail, albeit weakly, and licked the faces of his human family. He was surrounded by the warmth of love, a comforting cocoon against the impending storm.

As the day wore on, the reality of the situation settled in. The laughter turned into quiet moments, the playful banter into silent prayers. Heni sensed the change, but he didn’t understand the depth of their sorrow. He was still filled with the joy of being surrounded by his loved ones.

As the sun began its descent, casting long, mournful shadows, Heni nestled himself between his human family. He was tired, his body aching. But he was also filled with a sense of peace. He had lived a good life, filled with love and adventure. And as he drifted off to sleep, surrounded by the warmth of his family, he knew he was loved.

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