Night after night, I passed him—silent, patient, sitting on the same cracked stretch of road. He never barked, never begged. He only watched, as if holding onto a fragile thread of hope.

I started leaving scraps. Slowly, cautiously, he came closer. His eyes spoke of hunger, but also of trust trying to return. Then one night, he was gone. Panic rose in me—until I found him, shivering, limping, rain soaking through his thin coat.

I scooped him up, fragile and trembling, and carried him home. That was the night everything changed.

Now, Bruno greets me at the door. He curls at my feet, follows me from room to room, his quiet loyalty wrapping around me like a second heartbeat.

And I’ve come to realize—Bruno wasn’t just waiting to be saved. He was waiting for me. Because in rescuing him, I found a part of myself that had been lost too. 🐶💞