A dog fought for its life in the desert just Forty-Seven miles north of the nearest towns borders. The dog struggled to move, to even lift a paw so he could get up and get back home, back to Civilization. He didn't know why his owners abandoned him, perhaps it was a mistake? Perhaps it was a new game? This wasn't very fun for a game. The dog was hungry, thirsty, and tired, he ached all over. As the dog trudged on, his once white coat now a ***** and ****** tan, white, and crimson, he ignored the pain and thought only of home. Slowly Forty-Seven miles became Forty-Six, Forty, Thirty-Eight, Thirty-Two, Twenty-Nine, Twenty-Three, Ten, and then Eight. As he walked he didn't take notice of the sun slowly starting to dip behind the hills of sand off to his left, nor the reptiles that scattered from him as he passed by. He continued walking, even as the moon rose he continued heading home. He didn't notice when he stumbled and fell over, his eyes had already shut, his breath had already ceased, his heart slowly coming to a stop. He once had a loving family and home, but thanks to his ex-owners, he was now in a desert, and now dead. His last thought as he died, "Where is Master? Where is my Home?"