Fillyjonk has been living in the shelter for two years now. Two years is longer than her entire life. She was found tiny, dirty, with the remains of something inedible stuck to her paws. She was sitting in a box near the market, where hundreds of people walked by — no one stopped. No one looked in her direction. No one asked her name. As if such a dog did not exist at all.
But she did. With a tiny heart that fluttered with every step past. With paws that trembled from the cold. With eyes — too big, too pure for this world.
They called her Fillyjonk — because there was some special, quiet sadness in her. Not capricious, not plaintive. Just silent, deep. As if she always knew — she was unlucky to be born in this body, in this world, in this place. Too fragile. Too curly. Too trembling. And such a one cannot survive.
And yet she survived. At the shelter they fed her, treated her. She became a little rounder, a little more active, a little louder. But still — a stranger. She was always different. In the room where the puppies squealed, jumped, played — she sat in the corner. Not because she did not want to play. But because she got burned too often when the first one approached.
Over these two years, she made seven attempts to find a home. Seven. Seven times they photographed her, stroked her, promised to think about it. Once they even took her away. Three days later they returned — “scared of sudden movements, does not play, does not live up to expectations.” As if she were a toy with a defect.
Since then, she almost never approaches strangers. She only looks. This look… There is neither hope nor despair in it. There is a question. One single, painful one: “What’s wrong with me?”
No one knows how to answer. Because there is something wrong not with her. But with us. With those who choose by breed, by fashion, by «energy». With those who do not see the soul under the fur. Who do not notice how much one quiet look can say.
And she is still waiting. Sitting in the corner of her enclosure. Next to her is a bowl of water. A blanket. And this look. Without words, but to the very heart.
And if suddenly you read this to the end — know: perhaps you are her person. The one who is not afraid of silence. Who sees a little deeper. Who will one day say: «You are not trash. You are the most valuable thing that happened to me.»
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