text: Once upon a time there was a dog. The dogs name was Rover, and the story is over. Be glad that is not our story, for you see, our story also starts with a dog. A little dog and a little girl. Ever since he could remember he was on the streets. He didn't remember much from his puppy years- only faint impressions of family and warmth remained in the deepest recesses of his memory. Cold winds and frigid rain devoured everything in their path- but he was safe... in a ramshackle cardboard box. He was safe in his little corner of alley, ignored by the hurried people with sharp voices and pounding footsteps. He didn't like people. Not those people anyway. When all he could see were their dangerous shoes and loping limbs, ignorant of an entire world of street dogs and cats that are eating street rats. They rushed away from the rain, business suits, raggedy coats and anything in between, empty streets they said- blind to life in between. In between meals, homes and danger, the only things as constant to him as his tail, the promise of a meal with the little girl and his name. "See you tomorrow!" Echoes in his ears again. He had just gotten a good meal, a soft pet and lots of love. The girl- a title which he thinks with all the adoration possible, because she's The Girl. The only human he thinks of as something other that 'giant', a generic title that stuck. The small dog scarcely remembers a time when he didn't come to The Girl everyday, didn't have a guaranteed meal and companionship for some time. She was always so nice, he tried to show her as much love as he could in return. Her soft voice was a melody in a world of screeches and anger. The only time he had ever heard her stern was when he nudged a cylinder of metal next of her- or the weird tubes that connected it to her face. She had gasped- shoving him away in her panic. But more than that, she was scared- and hurt, when he did that. He never did it again. Snapping back to reality on a gloomy day- a tad warmer than yesterday, he finished scarfing down his meal. A blend of something that tasted amazing and The Girl had gotten just for him. She looked back at him smiling softly. A voice called from her house. "I'll see you tomorrow." The way she said tomorrow- said it everyday was inflicted with so much emotion that even normal human hearing would be able to sense the difference. The terrier may not notice the small contortions of her expression of even emotions in her eyes, but what he did notice, sharper than any human- and more insightful was his own language. The slight tensing of muscles to form a 'fist' (Aggression? Determination?); A slight tilt of the head towards the tank; and a hopeful inflection on her tone. Naturally, he assumed she would say nothing else but his name with such emotion. The small terrier knew, like the sky is blue, that his name was Tomorrow. To him that was that. His little world summed up by noisy streets and summer heat, by little girls and cats that made him hurl, that even in the scary snow, devoid the chirp of a sparrow, his name was Tomorrow. There was a routine never broken. Bent in places, a little dented, but whole and unbroken. Until today. The little girl wasn't there. He always found her, always knew her, she had a distinct smell- that made some of his instincts think she was weak, but the rest to comfort her. But she, along with her strange tubes and tanks and half-smiles was gone. The last thing he remembered seeing yesterday, while he was halfway across the street, was a blaring alarm and a screeching van,(red? white?). She had said she'd see him. See Tomorrow. See him Tomorrow. He waited for hours. Sitting. Waiting. A car pulled up. He jumped up, tail wagging, ready to greet her. Two giants came out- the ones who sometimes called for her and watched her, one in tears and one shell shocked. Two giants, but no little Girl. A ramshackle cardboard box. That was where he sat. Despite the icy, frigid rain- the harsh unforgiving footsteps of the people, Tomorrow curled protectively around his memories of The Girl, her half hazy forgotten face, and the way she said his name. Determined to meet him. Determined to meet Tomorrow. Cold whispers brushed past him; Tomorrow felt warm.