The last thing I remembered was walking up and down the roads that segregated the sides that lined the different houses. He took no chances to get rid of me, why couldn’t he accept me, the way she did? Why couldn’t he love me, the way she showered her love on me. I knew as soon as she left the front wrought iron gates; he would force me out of the home I’d grown up in, the home I’d been accustomed to, the home that brought me many memories, both unhappy and happy. Walking up and down the long and dreary road, hoping I could hear the clangs of her high stilettos, I felt unwanted. I felt like an outcast, a toy, something that you could get rid of so easily. I stopped to see a drenched worn out furry face in the puddles of water caused by the still pouring rain, water slowly dripping down my small black muzzle. Sounds of a car approaching shook me. Black out. All I could hear and all I ever wanted to hear was the clank clank clank of her stilettos.