I gave you my whole world. Every wag of my tail, every joyful bark, every moment of my life was yours. From the first day you brought me home, I was yours in every way. I remember the warmth of your hands as you stroked my fur, the laughter that filled the air when I clumsily stumbled over my oversized paws, and the way you whispered, “You’re my best friend.”
I believed you. I believed that we were forever.
But forever, it seems, meant something different to you.
The day you left me is etched into my memory like a scar that refuses to fade. It was cold—so cold that my breath turned to mist and my paws felt numb against the icy ground. You drove me to a place I’d never seen before, a remote patch of woods far from the warmth of our home. I thought we were going on an adventure. My tail wagged excitedly, and I leaned against you, trusting as always.
But when you opened the car door and told me to “stay,” something in your voice felt different. It wasn’t warm or kind; it was hollow, distant. I hesitated, looking up at you with questioning eyes. I didn’t understand.
And then you closed the door.
I barked, pawing at the window, thinking it was a mistake. You would never leave me. You loved me. But the car started, and before I could chase after you, it disappeared down the winding road.
I stood there, shivering, staring into the distance, waiting for you to come back. Surely, you wouldn’t leave me here. Hours passed. The sun dipped below the horizon, and the cold crept deeper into my bones. The darkness was terrifying. Every rustle in the bushes made my heart race. I cried out for you, barking until my voice grew hoarse.
But you didn’t come back.
I wandered for days, surviving on scraps and puddles of dirty water. My body grew weak, my once shiny coat became dull and matted, and my heart… my heart felt like it was breaking into a million pieces. I couldn’t understand why. What had I done wrong? I thought I was a good dog. I loved you more than anything. Wasn’t that enough?
One night, as I huddled beneath an old tree to escape the rain, I heard footsteps. A stranger approached me, their eyes filled with concern. “Oh, you poor thing,” they said, kneeling down to my level. Their voice was soft, and their touch was gentle. For the first time in what felt like forever, I felt a spark of hope.
They took me home, bathed me, and gave me food and a warm bed. I was hesitant at first, afraid to trust again. But they were patient, always speaking to me with kindness, always offering love without asking for anything in return. Slowly, I began to heal. My body grew stronger, and my heart started to mend.
But even now, on quiet nights when the world is still, I think of you. I wonder if you ever think of me. Do you remember how I used to greet you at the door, my tail wagging so hard it made my whole body shake? Do you remember the times we spent together, the games we played, the walks we took?
I gave you everything I had, and you left me in the cold with nothing but my broken heart.
But I’m learning to love again. The new family who took me in has shown me that not all humans are the same. They see me for who I am—a dog who wants nothing more than to love and be loved.
To anyone reading this, please remember: we dogs are not just pets. We are family. We give you our loyalty, our trust, and our unconditional love. Don’t throw that away. Don’t leave us in the cold.
Because even though I’ve found a new home, a part of me will always wonder why you couldn’t stay. Why wasn’t I enough?
