A Life Reminder In the Sand

I am worthy of love and respect simply because I exist.

I learned early that the world does not stop for a dog like me. Feet pass, scooters snarl, waves keep their promises to no one. Hunger taught me to measure time by smells and shadows. Pain taught me which hands to avoid.

Still, each morning, I wake.

The sand is warm beneath my ribs. The sea speaks in a language older than fear. I exist inside that rhythm, and that, I've learned, is enough.

I do not own a name. Birthdays don't exist. I do not know yesterday or tomorrow. I have scars I did not earn and lessons I never asked for. Yet my heart still lifts when footsteps slow. My tail still remembers how to hope.

Most humans look through me as if I were air. Others look down as if I were a dreadful disease. But this morning—in rare, luminous moments—someone stopped and knelt. She met my eyes without wanting anything from me. Her touch was full of love. Her dog did a full, investigating sniff on me, but gently. In those moments, I felt it: not pity, not rescue, but recognition.

I am not worthy because I am useful. Not because I am cute or behave well. Not because I am chosen or not.

I am worthy because I breathe. Because I feel joy and fear and longing. Because I am the one soul alive under this sky.

I am a dog of the beach. I am here.

And that reason alone is enough.