My puppies and I have gone days without food, As a neglected stray, we hope for a warm home and love

The streets have been my home for as long as I can remember. I don’t recall the warmth of a family or the softness of a bed. It’s been days since I last ate, and the emptiness gnawing at my stomach feels endless. My body is weak, but I don’t care as much for myself as I do for my puppies. They follow me closely, their small paws pattering against the cold ground as we wander aimlessly through alleyways and roads. Their eyes, full of innocence, search for food, warmth, or any sign of hope. As their mother, it breaks my heart knowing that I can’t provide for them the way I wish I could. We’ve been neglected, cast aside like forgotten memories, but deep down, I still dream of a home where love is not a distant fantasy.

Each day is a struggle for survival. We roam the streets, hoping to find scraps in the garbage, but even those are becoming scarce. People pass by us, some with pity in their eyes, others with indifference, but no one stops to help. The weather is getting colder, and I feel the weight of it pressing down on us. My puppies huddle close to me at night, trying to soak up whatever warmth I can provide. I curl my body around them, trying to shield them from the harsh winds and rain, but I know it’s not enough. Their tiny bodies shiver against mine, and all I can do is hope that tomorrow will be better.

I wasn’t always like this. I remember a time, though faintly, when I had a home. There were humans who once cared for me. I remember the sound of their laughter, the feel of their hands gently stroking my fur. I remember playing in the yard, chasing after balls, and the comforting smell of food always waiting in my bowl. But one day, everything changed. I don’t know why, but my family left me. They drove away, and I waited for them to come back. Days turned into weeks, and they never returned. I was left to fend for myself, pregnant and alone.

I gave birth to my puppies in a cold, abandoned lot. It wasn’t the safe, warm place I had hoped for, but it was all I had. I did my best to care for them, licking them clean and keeping them close. They looked up at me with such trust, as if I had all the answers. But I didn’t. I had no idea how we were going to survive.

The first few days were the hardest. My body was weak from lack of food, but I had to keep moving, had to find something for my babies. I scavenged through trash, begged silently at street corners, but there was so little to be found. I watched as my puppies’ bellies remained empty, their cries becoming weaker each day. I felt like a failure. As a mother, I was supposed to protect them, but I couldn’t even provide the most basic need – food.

Despite the hunger, it’s the loneliness that weighs on me the most. The streets are a cruel and unforgiving place for a stray like me. Other dogs see us as competition and chase us away. People either ignore us or, worse, chase us with sticks and stones. There’s no kindness here, no compassion. Every day feels like a battle, and I’m running out of strength to keep fighting. But I have to. I have to keep going for my puppies. They’re all I have, and I’m all they have.

I dream of a place where we don’t have to fight to survive. A place where we can rest, where my puppies can run and play without fear. A place where there’s always enough food and water, where we are safe and warm. But most of all, I dream of a home filled with love. I dream of humans who will take us in, not as burdens, but as part of their family. Humans who will stroke our fur, speak to us in gentle voices, and make us feel like we belong. I know it’s a lot to hope for, but it’s all I have left.

As the days go by, I can feel my strength fading. My body is weak, and the hunger is relentless. My puppies are growing, but they are still so small and fragile. I worry about what will happen to them if I can’t find food soon. I don’t want them to suffer the way I have. I want them to have a better life, a life filled with love and care. But out here, on the streets, that feels like an impossible dream.

There are moments when I feel like giving up, when the exhaustion and hunger become too much to bear. But then I look at my puppies, and I know I have to keep going. They need me. I may not be able to give them everything they deserve, but I can’t abandon them. They trust me to keep them safe, and I can’t let them down. So we keep walking, keep searching, keep hoping.

Every once in a while, we pass by a house with lights on inside, and I can see families gathered around a table, sharing a meal, laughing, and talking. It reminds me of the life I once had, the life I lost. I wonder if those families ever think about dogs like us, out here in the cold, hungry and alone. I wonder if they know how much we long for the love they take for granted.

I don’t know how much longer we can survive like this. The days are getting colder, and the nights are even worse. I try to stay strong for my puppies, but I can feel myself growing weaker. I don’t know what the future holds for us, but I can’t give up hope. Somewhere out there, I believe there’s a family who will see us, not as strays, but as future companions. A family who will take us in and give us the warmth and love we so desperately crave.

Until that day comes, we’ll keep moving, keep surviving. My puppies and I have gone days without food, but we haven’t lost hope. We may be neglected strays now, but I believe that one day, we’ll find the home we’ve been searching for. And when we do, it will all have been worth it. We just need someone to see us, to love us, and to give us the chance we deserve.