Longing
The dog felt half-starved.There must be food here somewhere. He knocked over a bin and rummaged through the mess, picking at what scraps he could find but a man ran out of the nearby house, throwing stones and yelling.
The dog made off, hunger still yowling in his belly.
He was always hungry these days, no matter how much he ate. Even the best meals never lasted long. And when it wasn’t food he craved, it was warmth, a few nights by the fire, was that so much to ask? Or a human touch. Time with his own kind, other dogs to play with. A bitch, that would be fun for once!
Who says it’s a dog’s life, when there’s so much longing?
He was hungry, again. He’d search for food.