Bau was a beautiful but pitiful dog. People would stop, their eyes softening as they marveled at his beauty. Yet a loneliness always accompanied these moments of admiration. After all, he was just a puppy, a creature born to love and be loved.
Today, a year had passed since he was abandoned. A year of hunger, cold, and the relentless pursuit of survival. He remembered the day vividly, a world of cold, hard concrete replacing the warmth of his mother’s embrace. People often told him he was beautiful, but that beauty had done little to fill the void left by her absence.
As he wandered the streets, searching for scraps, he couldn’t help but wonder. Why was he so beautiful if his mother had abandoned him? Was beauty a curse, a beacon that attracted attention but offered no protection? He longed for a touch of kindness, a warm meal, a safe place to sleep. But the city was indifferent, its inhabitants more focused on their own lives.
As the sun began its descent, casting long, mournful shadows, Bau found a sheltered spot beneath a discarded cardboard box. The city’s cacophony faded, replaced by the quietude of the night. He curled up, his body trembling from cold and hunger. His first birthday, a day that should have been filled with joy and celebration, was instead a stark reminder of his solitary existence.
In the darkness, he thought about his mother, a phantom figure in his memories. He wondered if she had ever thought about him, if she regretted her decision. As sleep claimed him, he was a small, lost soul in a vast, indifferent world, his beauty a cruel irony in the face of his loneliness.
