It has been six long years since I first arrived at this shelter. Six years of waiting, watching, and wondering if I’ll ever have a home to call my own. Day after day, I sit in my small, cold kennel, staring out at the world through the metal bars, hoping for someone to look at me and see more than just another dog. Hoping for someone to see me as family.
When I first came here, I was scared and confused. I didn’t know why my previous family left me. Did I do something wrong? Was I not good enough? Those questions haunted me in the early days, and even now, they linger in the quiet moments. The staff here are kind—they feed me, take care of me, and sometimes even play with me—but it’s not the same as having a home. It’s not the same as having someone to call my own.
I watch as people come into the shelter, smiling and excited. They walk past my kennel, their eyes glancing over me for only a moment before moving on to the younger, fluffier, or more energetic dogs. I wag my tail, I try to show them I’m a good dog, but they don’t stop. Sometimes, I think they don’t even see me.
Six years is a long time for a dog. I’ve seen so many of my friends come and go. Some were adopted quickly, their tails wagging with joy as they left with their new families. Others stayed longer, but eventually, someone came for them too. But not me. I’m still here, waiting.
I’ve learned not to get my hopes up too high when people visit the shelter. The disappointment is too much to bear. Instead, I focus on the little things: the warmth of the sun on my fur during outdoor playtime, the sound of the kind volunteers who call my name, and the brief moments when I close my eyes and imagine what a loving home might feel like.
I dream of a place where I can curl up on a soft bed, where gentle hands will scratch behind my ears and tell me I’m a good dog. I dream of hearing laughter and feeling the warmth of a family’s love. I dream of belonging, of being wanted.
I’ve spent so much time in this shelter that it feels like it’s part of me now. But deep down, I know it’s not where I’m meant to be. Every dog deserves a home, and I still hold on to the hope that one day, someone will walk through those doors, look into my eyes, and see me for who I truly am—a loyal, loving soul longing for a second chance.
So here I am, six years in, still waiting. My body has grown older, but my heart is still full of love to give. If you’re reading this, I want you to know that all I’ve ever wanted is to feel the warmth of a truly loving home. A place where I can rest my head, knowing I’m finally where I belong.
Maybe, just maybe, that day will come. Until then, I’ll keep waiting, because sometimes, hope is all a dog like me has left.
