Feeling old and lonely, I thought a dog might bring purpose to my life.
One day, I found him wandering the streets—dirty and hungry. When I reached out to pet him, he followed me without hesitation.
Now, he’s my dog, and I’m his person. I talk to him, and he answers with gentle licks on my hands.
“I’m worried we won’t have anything to eat tomorrow; my pension is gone, and we’ll have to wait,” I tell him.
Finally, the day comes. I stand in line with other retirees, clutching my well-worn booklet, waiting eagerly for my turn. Fido wags his tail, sensing today we’ll have a little more food and something better to eat.
In the cold of winter, my home has no fire to keep it warm. But he stays close, sharing his warmth. As spring approaches, we find comfort in each other, grateful for the sun’s return.
A prayer rises from my heart: “Thank you, Lord, for creating dogs…”