I hadn’t meant to stop that day. My backseat was full of groceries, my phone battery was dying, and I was already running late. But then I saw him—curled up by the curb like a forgotten scrap of life. His ribs stuck out, one ear was torn, and his legs trembled when he tried to stand. He didn’t flinch when I approached. He just looked at me like he already knew I wouldn’t hurt him. And when I crouched down, he limped right into my lap like we’d been waiting for each other our whole lives.
That was two weeks ago. I named him Mello, though his energy is anything but. He follows me everywhere—room to room, corner to corner—and insists on curling up on me no matter what I’m doing. Cooking? Lap. Working? Lap. Brushing my teeth? Lap. He can barely stand some days, but his need to be close is stronger than the pain.
The vet visit was rough. Mange. Lung infection. Two cracked ribs. And something odd on the X-ray. They gave me meds and warnings about costs. I didn’t blink. I couldn’t leave him behind.
I sleep on the couch now—it’s lower and closer to him. He whines if I’m out of reach. I haven’t had a full night’s sleep in weeks, but I don’t mind. His quiet breathing keeps me grounded.
