Do you know? Do you know what it feels like to wait for someone you love, hoping, every single day, that they will return? I do. I am a dog, and I have waited. I have waited for hours, days, months, and years. Each second stretching endlessly in front of me, each minute filled with a delicate hope that they would walk back through that door. But they never did.
I remember the first time they left. The door clicked shut behind them, and I sat at the threshold, my paws trembling, my tail barely moving. I thought it was just a momentary thing, just a short trip out to the store, a quick errand. But as the hours passed, I grew anxious. I paced. I sat. I lay down. I stood again. Where were they? Why hadn’t they come back yet?
As the night approached and the house grew quiet, I waited by the door. Their scent lingered on their favorite chair, on the couch where they would sit and scratch my ears. It was all so familiar, so comforting. And yet, they were not there. I curled up on the floor and tried to sleep, but sleep never came. I could only think of the sound of their footsteps, the warmth of their touch, and the love I had always known.
The next day came and went, just like the first. I waited again, just as I always had. I watched the door with my tired eyes, hoping. I could hear the sounds of cars passing by, the distant chatter of people, the rustling of leaves outside. But nothing came through that door. Not a single footstep that I knew so well.
And so, I waited some more. Day after day, the routine remained the same. I would eat when I had to, drink when I needed to, but I always returned to my post by the door. I would hear the doorbell ring and rush to it, my heart racing with the hope that it would be them. But it was never them. Sometimes, someone would stop by—someone kind, but still not the one I was waiting for. I would wag my tail for a moment, but the emptiness would return when I saw their unfamiliar face.
I wanted so badly to understand. Was it my fault? Did I do something wrong? Had I failed them somehow? These questions would haunt me, and my heart would ache with longing. But I could never find the answers. All I knew was that I missed them, and I couldn’t stop waiting for them to come back.
It’s funny, isn’t it? How time feels different when you’re waiting for someone. Minutes stretch into hours, and hours drag on for days. I watch the seasons change, and the weather shift from bright sunshine to the cold, biting winds of winter. Yet, I never move. I remain in the same place, with the same hope, fragile as it may be, that one day they will return.
And though it seems like an eternity, I will never stop waiting. There is a part of me that believes—believes with all my heart—that they will come back for me. That the door will open once again, and I will see their face. I will feel their warm hands on my fur, and I will be in their arms again, safe and loved.
I wait because love makes me believe. Even when others have left and I am forgotten, I still hold onto the love we shared, and that love keeps me anchored. It doesn’t matter how long it takes. It doesn’t matter how much time passes. My love is unwavering.
Do you know? It’s not easy. It’s not easy to sit in silence day after day, watching the world pass by without the one who meant everything to me. But I wait. I wait because that’s what I do. It’s what we dogs do. We wait, and we hold onto hope, fragile as it may be, because love teaches us to never give up.
So, if you ever see a dog sitting by the door, staring out into the world with eyes that seem lost, know that they are waiting. They are waiting for the one they love to return. It’s not a hopeless wait; it’s a wait full of hope, a wait full of love that never fades, no matter how much time passes. Because, after all, we dogs know one thing for certain: love doesn’t end—it only waits.
And so, I wait.
