Alice did not choose the streets of Romania.
She did not choose hunger, cold rain, or hard nights.
She was only a sweet soul trying to survive.
Every day, she searched for scraps like they were treasure.
Her eyes stayed alert, because danger lived everywhere.
Some humans looked away like she was nothing.
Others looked at her like she was a problem.
One day, that cruelty found her.
A loud crack split the air.
Then another.
Alice felt the world hit her body like fire.
She tried to run, but her legs betrayed her.
Her heart raced so fast it hurt.
She fell into the dirt, shaking and confused.
She did not understand why this was happening.
She only knew it was heartbreaking and wrong.
Her breath came in tiny, scared pulls.
Her chest burned with every breath.
A bullet had pierced deep inside her.
Another had shattered her leg like dry wood.
The pain was sharp, then dull, then sharp again.
She tried to lift her head.
She could not.
Her eyes blinked slowly, like she was fading.
Still, she held on.
Not because she was not scared.
But because somewhere inside, she still wanted life.
A kind voice finally cut through her fear.
Gentle hands moved fast, but careful.
A blanket wrapped her like a tiny promise.
She was lifted, and her body trembled in shock.
She smelled blood and dust and cold metal.
She heard rushing steps and worried whispers.
Then the clinic lights appeared like a new sunrise.
She was carried into the SACHE Foundation clinic.
The room felt warm, but her body felt frozen.
The people there did not look away.
They did not call her a nuisance.
They called her “baby” in soft voices.
They touched her with steady hands.
Alice wanted to bite from fear.
But she had no strength left.
She only watched, begging without words.
“Please,” her eyes said.
“Please don’t hurt me more.”
The vet leaned close and spoke gently.
Alice heard love in that tone.
It was strange, and it scared her too.
Because love had not been safe before.
Then the needle came.
And the pain started to drift away.
Her eyes grew heavy, but the fear stayed.
In her mind, she ran through dark streets again.
She heard the cracks again.
She felt her body give out again.
But this time, she was not alone.
This time, hands stayed with her.
Her surgery began as her world went quiet.
They worked to remove the bullets.
They cleaned her wounds like she mattered.
They fought for her heart like it was precious.
And when she woke up, the pain was still there.
But she was alive.
Alive, even with a shattered body.
Alive, even after humans tried to erase her.
Alive, because strangers refused to give up.
Her head rested on clean towels.
A warm blanket covered her back.
A soft light hung above her.
She blinked and saw faces watching her closely.
Not with anger.
With worry.
With hope.
Her leg hurt like thunder.
Her chest felt tight and sore.
Every small movement reminded her of violence.
But then a hand stroked her cheek.
Slow.
Gentle.
Safe.
Alice’s eyes filled with silent tears.
She did not know tears could mean relief.
The clinic gave her medicine and antibiotics.
They checked her heart.
They checked her wounds.
They spoke softly, even when she flinched.
She was learning a new thing.
She was learning that pain was not the only touch.
She was learning that care could be real.
Still, her body needed more help.
Her broken leg needed more surgery.
Her healing would not be quick.
Some nights, she stared at the wall, unable to sleep.
She listened to the clinic sounds.
Other dogs.
Footsteps.
Soft voices.
She wondered if she would ever run again.
She wondered if she would ever feel grass under her paws.
She wondered what it would feel like to be loved.
Not for a moment.
But forever.
Otti’s story began with fear too.
Otti was another homeless dog in Romania.
He walked the roads like they were endless.
Cars rushed past him like storms.
He tried to stay invisible.
He tried to stay alive.
But one day, the worst thing happened.
A car struck him and kept going.
The sound was terrible.
His body flipped into pain.
He landed in a ditch, broken and shaking.
At first, he tried to stand.
He could not.
His legs would not listen.
His spine screamed with sharp agony.
He whimpered, then cried out louder.
But no one came.
Time crawled like a cruel joke.
The sun moved.
The air cooled.
Otti stayed in that ditch, suffering.
The pain made him dizzy.
It made him angry.
It made him terrified.
All he could do was turn in circles.
Like his body was trying to escape itself.
Someone saw a video of him.
A heartbreaking clip of a dog trapped in pain.
It reached rescuers who could not ignore it.
They rushed to find him.
They pulled him from the ditch.
Otti snapped at them at first.
Not because he was mean.
But because he was drowning in pain.
His eyes were wide, wild, and scared.
His body shook with every touch.
He thought hands meant harm.
He thought the world only hurt you.
But they did not leave him there.
They wrapped him carefully.
They carried him away from the cold ground.
They brought him to the same clinic.
Bright lights.
Clean floors.
Voices full of urgency.
The vet checked him and frowned.
X-rays showed the truth.
His spine had multiple fractures.
That meant he could not stand.
That meant he could not walk.
Otti’s world felt shattered.
He lay still, breathing hard.
He felt trapped in his own body.
He hated the pain.
He hated the helplessness.
He hated that he needed humans.
But the clinic gave him pain medicine.
And slowly, slowly, the fire eased.
For the first time in days, his eyes softened.
For the first time, he could rest without screaming.
He started to watch his caretakers.
They moved calmly.
They spoke in warm voices.
They cleaned his face and stroked his head.
Otti still feared the next moment.
But he began to understand.
These humans were different.
They were not here to hurt him.
They were here to save him.
That realization hit him like sunlight.
It was gentle, but powerful.
He leaned into a hand one day.
Just a little.
His caretaker froze, then smiled.
Otti’s tail gave a tiny wag.
And in that simple wag lived a fragile new hope.
He may need surgery.
He may need a wheelchair later.
But his rescuers refused to quit.
They looked at him like he still had a future.
They looked at him like he still mattered.
That feeling mattered more than he could explain.
Because dogs like Otti are used to being forgotten.
Dogs like Otti are used to suffering alone.
Now he was not alone.
Now he had people fighting for him.
His eyes followed them as they walked around the clinic.
He wanted to trust fully.
He wanted to believe in safe arms.
But trust takes time when your life has been cruel.
Still, he tried.
And every day, he tried a little more.
Alice healed in a nearby room.
Otti healed on soft blankets.
Two broken dogs.
Two sweet souls.
Both carrying pain they never deserved.
Both still holding onto life with trembling hearts.
Outside the clinic, the streets stayed harsh.
So many homeless animals still roamed.
So many still hungry.
So many still hurt.
The SACHE Foundation received calls every day.
Dogs hit by cars.
Cats starving in alleys.
Animals treated like trash.
And still, the clinic opened its doors again and again.
They spayed and neutered to stop the suffering.
They taught people why it mattered.
They treated wounds that should not exist.
They gave comfort to animals who had never known it.
But medical care costs money.
Surgery costs money.
Medicine costs money.
And love alone cannot pay those bills.
Alice needs more surgery.
Otti needs help for his spine.
They need a chance to fully heal.
They need people who care to stand with them.
Because when the world is cruel, kindness must be louder.
Alice’s eyes still hold fear.
But they also hold something new.
A small glow that says she wants a home.
Otti still cannot walk.
But his heart is learning to trust again.
They are fighting.
They are holding on.
They are waiting for the day they can breathe without pain.
Waiting for the day safe arms become real.
And hoping the world will choose them.