Hey… yes, you

 Hey… yes, you.

I know I look like just another wet, muddy dog standing in the rain. But I used to have a name. I used to have a warm bed and someone who scratched my ears when I curled up beside them. Somewhere along the way, I got lost. Now I walk these streets alone, learning the rhythm of the rain and which alleyways stay warm on the coldest nights. Most people pass without a glance.

But every once in a while, someone stops. They kneel down, meet my eyes, and for a moment I remember what it felt like to be safe. That’s when my tail moves — just a little — because even the smallest kindness feels like sunlight after a storm.

I don’t know where I’ll be tomorrow. But if you see me, or a dog like me, out here in the rain, please remember: we’re not just strays. We’re stories. We’re hope on four legs, still waiting for someone to believe in us again.