His nails clicked on the pavement as he ambled along, tongue lolling out of his mouth. The sweltering heat overwhelmed him as he looked for water to drink. The dirty, gray sidewalk burned the pads of his feet. A black tabby-cat sat in a window, staring at him. He simply glanced at it, tilting his head, and then continued on. There was just no energy to be wasted on cats, not even tabbies.

He loped down an alley and spotted a mound of trash bags, some of the bottoms were torn open. The rich smell of decomposing fruit and meat filled the alley and drew him closer. He dug his snout into the bottom of one of the nearest bags, the one that smelled like meat. He made a low growling sound as he rooted in it, tearing at cloth and fruit, trying to get to his prize.

The bottom of the bag gave way and filth spewed out onto the ground. He found brownish wads of beef and gobbled them down, his mouth snaking forward as the cow slipped backwards. He sniffed and tried to find more amongst the heap, but the beef was gone. There was paper and cloth, some fruit and vegetables, but no meat left in that bag. He couldn’t smell anything else he'd want in the remaining bags, but he tried anyways. He tore at the other bags, biting into the black plastic and pulling, the growl returned. He thrust his mouth back into the bag and immediately jerked backwards, yelping. Something sharp had gotten him and he couldn’t see out of one of his eyes. He slowly backed away from the tip of the hypodermic needle that had gored his left eye. He feared it.

After he’d escaped the pain of the alleyway, he returned to his search for water. The pain was harsh. There was a burning where his eye had been, but he was so thirsty. The heat baked his filthy fur. What had once been a beautiful white coat had now turned a foul yellow and brown. If anyone had bothered to pet him, they would have pulled their hand back in shock from the heat. But nobody bothered petting him anymore, they hadn't for a long time.

He thought of the people who’d called to him when he’d been younger, when he’d had a name. He couldn’t remember what they’d called him, but they’d said it with enthusiasm, at least for awhile. Then they started yelling it at him. There was a boy and a man, but the boy was hardly ever around. When it was just him and the man, the man ignored him. Sometimes he’d forget to feed him, and the man would yell at him when he nudged the bowl across the kitchen floor. After a while, the boy stopped coming around, and the man cried all the time. Then the man stopped moving. He sat in a chair one day and never got up. The dog was hungry, very hungry, and when a woman opened the door to the apartment one day, he ran. He ran to the street and found food.

He wished the man and the boy were still around.

He heard it before he saw it. The distinct spraying sound made his ears perk up. He looked to the right and down the block somebody had uncapped a fire hydrant, water was spraying everywhere and kids were playing in it.

He ran for it.

There was no notice. No honking or squealing, just a strong force hitting his side. He hadn’t seen the car, it had been on his left. Had he not lost the eye, he would have seen the taxi coming. He didn’t hurt, though. The eye didn’t hurt anymore, either. He just lay on the street, his tongue moving on the pavement as his breathing grew heavier.

A child ran to him. A young girl, she was crying. She stroked his fur and spoke to him. He couldn’t understand, but he was so happy the heat was over with. The thirst was gone too. He wondered if she’d take him home.