The dumpster reeked of rotten food, but he could barely register it above the stench of his own blood. At first, the pain blinded him. It was all he could do to keep his protruding hind leg bones from jutting out further. Now, he barely felt anything as he waited to die.
Fitting, really. He was born on the streets, and here he was, tossed unceremoniously back like a broken-what, exactly? He was as valuable as trash.
What hurt more than his body was the belief that he was finally going home with one of those good humans he had heard so much about, only to be used as a bait dog when he got there.
Good humans. He spat out some drool mingled with dried blood. There were no such thing.
A gasp caught his ears but everything was already turning black. The last things he remembered were hands, soft ones that didn’t hurt, clasped around him, picking him up gently like he was…important, valuable.
Ah…this must be what the humans call a hug.
© Jade M. Wong 2016
Double prompt combo! Haven’t done one in awhile, and the muse was scribbling away when she saw both these prompts.