Today was a special day for the little stray dog who had spent most of his life wandering the streets alone. He didn’t know his own age, nor did he have a family or anyone to call his own, but somewhere deep down, he felt that today was different. He longed for a name—a meaningful name that would make him feel seen, as though he were someone worth remembering.
With his scruffy fur and gentle eyes that had seen both kindness and cruelty, the nameless dog shuffled along the busy sidewalk, watching people pass by. He imagined what it would be like to be called by a name, to hear someone call out to him lovingly. Maybe if he had a name, people wouldn’t look at him with pity or indifference. Maybe, they would stop, just for a moment, and see him as more than a “stray.”
As he sat under the afternoon sun, he let out a small whine, hoping someone might notice. His tail wagged slightly with the thought, but no one stopped. People glanced, some even frowned, but no one came closer. He wondered if he was too plain or too worn for anyone to love, or maybe it was because he didn’t have a name. If only he could be called “Lucky” or “Hope”—names that carried warmth, safety, or strength.
A small child passing by noticed him and tugged at his mother’s hand. “Can we say hello to the doggie?” the child asked, looking up with bright eyes. The mother paused, then gently shook her head, hurrying them along. The dog’s heart sank as they walked away, but he couldn’t help but hope. He imagined the child whispering a name to him—a name that only the two of them would know. That thought kept him warm for a moment longer.
Even as the sun began to set and the streets grew quiet, the dog kept hoping. Perhaps, someday soon, someone would give him a name—a name that would make him feel wanted, like he truly belonged. Until then, he would keep wandering, dreaming of the day he might hear a kind voice call out to him. And on this special day, he made a silent wish: that one day, he wouldn’t just be a stray dog, but someone’s beloved friend.
