Claire sits quietly in the corner of the so-called playroom, tail swaying slowly, a heavy weight of disappointment in every movement.

Around her, the other puppies bounce and tumble, yipping for attention, snuffling at hands reaching down to pet them, soft voices cooing over every wag, every small trick performed.

She’s tried. She’s tried for the past hour and a half to catch someone’s eye. Sat, stay, rolled over—every trick she learned as a pup, executed as perfectly as she could manage. But no one looked her way. Not a single soul.

She watches as the others are fed treats, stroked behind the ears, praised for the smallest accomplishments. The warmth, the laughter, the attention—it feels like it belongs to everyone but her. Her shoulders slump a little; she’s well-behaved, obedient, eager to please, and just nineteen. Still, no one wants her.

Her tail flicks half-heartedly, ears flattening slightly against her head. Maybe she’s too quiet. Maybe she’s too small. Or maybe. No. She forces herself to stop thinking like that.

And, that maybe, she’s just invisible.

…Until.