It's the middle of summer, I'm outside. It's at least ninety degrees here, and the shade is nowhere near able to defeat it. I ran out of water. Being locked outside on a day like this is torturous. My father is cruel to the point of chaining me to a stake in the ground. I want to play with the others.

I want to feel loved for once. When I was adopted, I felt that love. For the first few months, they loved and cared for me.

They even gave me a bed, the right to take a bath, and the ability to take walks with my new family.

Now, I'm trapped out here in this blistering heat. I'm so starved of water, I stopped sweating.

I feel like I'm about to faint.

A cold, wet feeling erupted over my entire body. Father poured a bucket of ice water over me.

Now I'm cold. He walks back inside, giving more of those plastic bottles of water. Usually, he gave me a bowl to drink out of. This time, he gave me actual bottles.

That's worse. I'm too weak to open them.

It's the beginning of autumn. Finally, the heat stopped being overwhelming. During the nights, however, the weather becomes windy and cold. I shiver. Oh how I wish for somewhere cold to be. I see my father and some new person with a large lump on her belly. Maybe, when that lump finally goes away, he will finally love me again.

I want to feel loved.

I'm starved. I have enough water, but the food isn't coming as fast as I'd wish. An orange leaf lands on my nose.

I start crying. Crying because I felt hopeless. Crying because I felt like I was dying. Crying because I wanted to be hugged just once more. I shiver violently. Nightfall was always the worst.

I lay in the porch. I wasn't even allowed under the table. I wish it was summer all of a sudden. Then, it was a baking oven. Now, it's just cold. I can't stand the cold.

I smell the scent of peppermint wafting through the air. My stomach yearns for some. I know the flavor only because I have licked some off of wrappers.

I curl up with all the hair on my body doing nothing to keep me at least warm. The grass in front of me becomes wet. It starts raining.

Now I'm soaked, even under the small overhang of roof I get.

It's nearing the end of winter. All my water is frozen, not that it mattered. Someone from yesterday had met me. That was the first happy day in so long. She gave me good food. She gave me a small bowl of soup, too. I want her to come back.

I want that love to stay.

My father is pacing throughout the living room, drinking that weird-smelling liquid again. It would sometime be so potent, it would seep into my water and leave the odor there for hours.

The snow upon the ground is being layered next to me and upon my own body.

I feel so weak, I can't even feel my own skin. I lay here, starved and dehydrated. I have food, but eating takes my energy.

I don't have enough energy.

My practically unclothed body lay in the snow.

I hear a loud sound outside. I don't have the vigor I need too care. Father yells and several people knock the doors down. The woman from yesterday comes up to me. My already-fading vision recognizes her caring face. She and one other carry me out of the backyard.

I don't remember anything past that.

"Why?" you may ask.

It is because I died.

Who knew that getting adopted out of the pound meant going through torture?

Well, I didn't, but it's okay.

I learned what it meant to love again.

Thank you for not letting me die a horrible death, like I imagined.

Don't leave your dog outside under any outrageous conditions.

If you can't handle it, neither can they.