The titular “shepherd boy” is a dog, once beloved, now forsaken. Through stark and poignant imagery, we observe him wandering the debris-strewn site, scavenging for food, seeking shelter, and gradually forming bonds with other strays. This deserted landscape becomes an unintended sanctuary—one built not out of choice, but necessity. The dog's journey unfolds without spoken dialogue, yet it speaks volumes about resilience, survival, and the emotional cost of human neglect.
Much like the ethical thought experiment of returning a shopping trolley—an act done purely out of consideration for others—the film raises a compelling moral question: what kind of person abandons a pet? There are no direct consequences for leaving an animal behind. And yet, as Shepherd Boy quietly demonstrates, the cost is evident in the suffering, confusion, and solitude etched into every frame.
There’s a heartbreaking dignity to the way these animals wait—often for days—for families that will never return. And while the cruelty of abandonment looms large, Queiroga also shows us moments of adaptation and hope. In the midst of a broken world, these animals build new forms of community, a fragile but enduring testament to life’s ability to persist.
Shepherd Boy is not subtle in its message, but it is profoundly moving. A quietly powerful short that lingers in the mind, it asks us to reconsider what we owe to the vulnerable beings who rely on us—and what it says about us when we turn away.