The dog enters the room, an array of blond curls swirled in it's otherwise black fur; a single patch of green oddly featured around it's left eye. The missing collar is obvious, the dogs ribs sticking prominently through it's skin, yet the innocent dark brown eyes suggest nothing of a stray. I am Nice. They say. I won't hurt you. It trots over to the couch, rubbing it's nose eagerly against the groaning black leather. It wants attention. The two young women harboring the couch shoo it away; they have no time for play, and a tail lowers between a pair of legs as this idea sets in. Sometimes it wonders why it's here. The hustle and bustle of the brightly lit cafe offer no love, no security, and it knows in a few hours it will be chased off after the customers have all left. Just like every night. Still, perhaps, one day she may come back, offering an apologetic tone for leaving it, ready to provide lavish love and care once more. The dog can still remember, as it if were yesterday.

    The dog is eagerly being pulled by a leash, and set down outside this very cafe. The nightime summer air is warm, and humid, an occasional breathe of wind running through. The woman holding the leash is talking into her phone, a strange language that the dog does not understand. But still, it responds to it's masters voice with a riased hyper tail. Suddenly the womans voice escalates, and she hurridly hangs up the phone and bends down by her companion, speaking in subtle babyish tones. After a while she stands back up, heading in the direction she came from. The dog tries to follow, tries to be a good dog, but the leash has been tied to a pole and it can only whimper pathetically as it's owner leaves it behind. It barks loudly, maybe she just forgot that the dog was here, but she never turns around, never comes back. Suddenly the darkness of the night sky seems much more threatening, the bright stars seemed to have disapeared. More whimpering, as the extreme confusion sets in. Where has she gone? Is she coming back? Is this because I tried to eat the food off the table again? Please come back!! I won't do it again! I swear! But she does not come back. No one else seems to be around to notice the poor fellow, and any who do ignore it with an air of pity. It's OK.The dog thinks after a while. I still love you. It finds a way to slip the collar off it's neck, but it doesn't know where to head, instead deciding to stay here until it's owner comes back for it. And this is where it stays.

    
    The dog watches people starts to leave. (sometimes it wishes one would take it home, perhaps for a good meal. It hasn't eaten much in a while, but then it thinks, how will it's owner find it if it leaves?) The lights slowly get dimmed, and as if on cue the lady behind the counter pushes the dog out with her foot. The dog has a routine now, and it heads off to the ally next door where a makeshift bed of leaves and a box has been established. It curls up inside, and it can't help but recall the many memories of recieving dog treats and running after fuzzy green tennis balls. But that's all over now. You'll come back for me. I love you. You MUST love me. And I will wait forever. As it slips into an uneasy sleep, it whines, as it does every night, and the first flakes of winter snow land softly in it's tangled mane.