This week’s photo prompt is provided by pixabay.com
It was just a stray dog. That was what the other soldiers kept telling me because I started feeding it scraps. It was not my fault that I could not bear to see an animal going hungry.
It was just a stray dog. However, as the days became weeks I am pretty sure we were really bonding.
It was just a stray dog. The day our base got hit by a car bomb the dog was the one that came to drag me and my colleagues to safety.
This was no stray dog, not anymore. This was my dog, Hero.
Written for flash fiction for aspiring writers