There has always been one someone there. That someone cares enough to love and loves enough to care. In the movies that person is almost always there but in real lives there isn't always that person. Sometimes they died and sometimes they just don't care but they aren't always there. In the lives where they are there they are taken for granted... unless they weren't there before.
I am one of those people. I was thirteen when someone who cared came in to my life. That someone was a dog, man's best friend. His name was Bruno. A common name but it suited the Great Dane that I had found on the street. He would lay his giant head on my lap and gaze up in to my eyes.

We lived in a card board box in an alley behind the Bakery. The baker was a round man that loved dogs. He would give Bruno and me food and blankets just for the night as long as I did some odd jobs for him.
The baker had a daughter who couldn't have children but wanted one or two badly. One day the baker brought her to the bakery and she asked who I was. The kind baker explained to her that I was an orphan that did odd jobs for food and clothing that he would pick up at the local thrift store.

His daughter came back over the next two months and finally asked me if I would like a home where everyone loved me. Of course I said yes. A month later I was living in a house with Bruno still gazing up in to my eyes. I went to school and lived a life that seemed perfect.
Sometimes it takes something you don't have to realize how special it really is.