I don’t remember much about my earliest days just the warmth of my mother’s fur, the jostling of my siblings, and the vague sense of safety. Then, one day, that safety was gone.
They took me away.
I was placed in a cage, the cold metal pressing against my small body. The smells were overwhelming fear, sadness, and something sharp that burned my nose. The other dogs barked constantly, their voices bouncing off the walls like an unending storm.
I felt so small.
Then she appeared.
Her scent reached me before her voice did sweet, warm, like sunshine after rain. I pressed my nose to the bars, curious. She knelt in front of my cage, her big brown eyes shining with kindness. Her hands, so tiny and soft, slipped through the bars to stroke my fur.
“Mom, this one,” she said, her voice filled with certainty. “I want this one.”
Her mother hesitated, but the girl was insistent. “Please? Look at his eyes! He needs me.”
When they opened the cage, I hesitated. I’d been hurt before. But the girl knelt down and held out her arms. “It’s okay, little guy. I’ll take care of you.”
I stepped forward, my heart pounding. When she picked me up and held me close, I knew I was safe.
Life with Emma was everything I could have dreamed of.
She named me Spike, laughing as she said, “You don’t look like a Spike, but it fits somehow.” I didn’t know what the name meant, but the way she said it made my tail wag.
We spent every day together. She’d wake up early, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, and the first thing she’d do was call for me. “Spike! Breakfast time!” I’d race down the hall, my paws skidding on the wooden floor, and she’d laugh every time.
We played in the yard for hours. She’d throw a ball, and I’d chase it, my legs pumping as fast as they could go. Sometimes I’d run so hard I’d tumble head over paws, but Emma never scolded me. She’d just pick me up, ruffle my fur, and say, “Silly boy!”
At night, I’d curl up at the foot of her bed, listening to her breathe. She’d drape her arm over me, her small hand resting on my back. I’d close my eyes, feeling her heartbeat against my fur, and I’d think, *This is home.*
The years passed like a warm summer day. Emma grew taller, her voice changing, her laughter still as sweet as ever. I grew too, from a scrappy pup into a strong, confident dog. My coat shone like copper in the sunlight, and my tail was always wagging.
I was happy. ...
I first noticed the change when Emma started spending more time away from home.
At first, it was small things staying late after school, leaving me behind when she went out with friends. I didn’t mind. I’d wait by the door, my ears pricking at every sound, my tail wagging whenever I thought I heard her footsteps.
But then the days grew longer. She’d leave in the morning and not come back until after dark. Sometimes, she wouldn’t come home at all.
Her scent changed too. It smelled like stress and unfamiliar places. When she did come home, she’d kneel down and hug me tightly, whispering, “I missed you, Spike.”
I missed her too.
Her parents started arguing more. Their voices were sharp, their words like thunderclaps that made me want to hide. I didn’t understand what was happening, but I stayed close to Emma’s mom, hoping my presence would help.
When Emma left for something called “college,” the house grew unbearably quiet. Her scent faded from her room, replaced by the smell of dust and loneliness. I spent my days waiting by the door, my heart leaping every time a car passed, only to sink when it didn’t stop.
When she did visit, I was overjoyed. My legs didn’t work as well as they used to, but I’d still run to her, my tail wagging so hard it felt like it might fall off. She’d laugh and hug me, her voice filled with warmth.
But she always left. And every time she did, it hurt more.
Im back to where i am..??
I was 17 years old when it happened.
My body was tired. My once-shiny coat had dulled, and my legs ached with every step. But I still had love to give. I still waited by the door, still wagged my tail when someone came near.
One morning, they put me in the car. My tail wagged weakly. Maybe we were going to the park, or the vet. Anywhere would be fine, as long as I was with them.
But when we stopped, the air smelled wrong.
It smelled like the shelter, is this where i came before..???
I froze, my heart pounding. The memories rushed back cold cages, endless barking, the crushing weight of loneliness.
A woman in a blue shirt opened the car door and helped me out. She was kind, her hands gentle, but her eyes were sad. I looked back at my family, confusion and fear swirling inside me.
They were walking away.
“Wait!” I barked, my voice hoarse and desperate. “Don’t leave me! Please!”
I Keep barking at them " Please! take me with you guys..!! i begging you.. dont leave me here!". But maybe is sound like guk..guk..guk..guk and guk.. only to them.
But they didn’t turn back.
The shelter was just as I remembered loud, cold, and filled with the scent of despair.
They gave me a small, clean cage and a soft blanket, but it wasn’t home. I spent my days curled in the corner, replaying memories in my head. Emma’s laughter. The feel of her arms around me. The way she used to say, “I love you, Spike.”
I stopped eating. The humans here were kind, their voices soft and soothing, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. No one wanted an old dog like me.
I had given everything to my family my love, my loyalty, my life. And now, I was alone.
A Flicker of Hope...
One rainy afternoon, as I lay on my blanket, a familiar scent reached me.
It was faint at first, like a dream, but it grew stronger with every passing second. My ears perked up, my heart pounding painfully in my chest.
Could it be?
“Spike?” a voice called softly.
I lifted my head, my eyes straining to see through the bars. And there she was.
Emma.
She knelt in front of my cage, her face streaked with tears. “Oh, Spike,” she whispered, reaching through the bars to touch my fur. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
Her arms wrapped around me, and for the first time in weeks, I felt warmth.
But...
Emma took me home not the house we used to share, but a small, cozy place that smelled like her. She carried me everywhere, fed me by hand, and spent hours sitting with me, her voice soft and loving.
I was tired. My body was failing, but my heart was full.
When the time came, I wasn’t afraid.
Emma held me in her arms, her tears falling onto my fur. “I love you, Spike,” she whispered. “Thank you for everything.”
As I closed my eyes for the last time, I thought, I was loved.
And that was enough.