My husband and I decided to adopt a dog from a shelter. He initially wanted a purebred dog, believing that breed signifies nobility, intelligence, and loyalty.
However, I urged him to visit a shelter with me, and he reluctantly agreed. In all our years together, and there have been quite a few, Michael has never disagreed with me. You might wonder, why a dog and not a child? We are solitary people, and we’ve reached an age of wisdom and reflection. We both recognize the responsibility of taming a living being.
Raising a child involves nurturing, educating, and preparing them for life—a long-term commitment. A dog, however, will stay with us until the end, becoming our shared child.
The shelter was a grim sight. A nauseating odor filled the air, mingling with the relentless barking and howling that tore at the soul. Like forlorn children, the dogs gazed at us with hope, reaching for connection.
Walking past the rows of cramped cages, countless eyes followed our every move. I thought, why must these creatures suffer so? Perhaps, if there were no abandoned animals, there wouldn’t be orphaned children or the need for orphanages.
An animal, like a child, requires patience, love, and care, communicating in a “foreign” tongue that we often avoid understanding, interpreting for our convenience.
Suddenly, Michael stopped dead in front of one cage. Inside was a dog, indifferent to the world, with a glazed look. He didn’t react to our appearance, seeming deaf and blind to us. “Why this scruffy one? Choose this one—it’s a breed,” the shelter warden hurried over to suggest.
“He’s been abandoned multiple times, starving himself to end his miserable life,” a volunteer explained, a bitter note in her voice revealing the dog’s tragic backstory. Michael tried speaking to the dog, but it turned away, having lost faith in people.
“You know, he’s a good, obedient dog. Despite being a mutt, he’s very loyal, more so than any ‘royal’ breed,” the girl continued with hope. She shadowed us, keen on our every move. I reached through the bars to pat him. Unexpectedly, the dog turned towards me, his eyes ablaze, pressing his warm, slightly wet nose into my hand.
I laughed. The dog sighed deeply, stood up, and wagged his tail. “A miracle!” cried the volunteer. “You’re the first he’s responded to!” “The vet was preparing to euthanize him,” added the indifferent shelter manager.
The girl hurried on, “He seems to understand everything, quietly howling at night, mourning his unfair fate, with tears in his eyes.” “Dogs cry; I’ve seen it firsthand,” she blurted out, turning away to hide her moist eyes.
Michael’s expression mirrored the dog’s at that moment—life-worn and pleading. His eyes, like a dog’s, begged for mercy. Alongside were the dog’s eyes. We locked gazes for what felt like eternity. Within those eyes, a storm of emotions raged. Betrayed by people, yet he yearned for a family. A sudden will to live stirred within him.
He howled, long and mournfully, pouring out his pain. Shelter staff gathered around, many tearing up openly. Michael knelt before the dog, as if seeking forgiveness for humanity’s transgressions.
“His name is Loyal,” said a staff member, handing us the leash. The entire shelter bid us farewell. Someone discreetly crossed themselves, blessing us. This gesture sealed our pact of three.
Michael forgot about a pedigree purchase. Doesn’t “buying a dog” sound odd to you? Can friendship, loyalty, and love be bought?
The dog trotted beside us. Michael let the leash go so he could relish his new freedom. He seemed to know he’d stay with us until the end, a time when he’d never have cause to cry again.
