What began as a simple trip to adopt a dog spiraled into panic, hard truths, and a lesson about trust and family.
Last weekend, I thought I’d lost my son.
Our son Andy had been begging for a dog for months, asking each day, “Dad, can we please get a dog?” I was close to giving in, but he still had to win over my wife, Kelly. After much back-and-forth, she reluctantly agreed, saying, “Fine, but it has to be small and well-behaved. No big, sloppy mutts.”
The shelter was chaotic, with the sounds of excited and hopeful barks filling the air. Andy’s eyes sparkled as he skipped between kennels, looking past the fluffy dogs we’d initially imagined. Then he froze, staring into a kennel holding the scruffiest dog I’d ever seen—a mess of tangled fur and big, solemn eyes. I knelt beside him, whispering, “She’s not exactly what your mom wanted, buddy.”
“She needs us,” he replied, his face serious. “We could make her happy.”
Against the odds, we brought the scrappy dog home. Andy named her Daisy, and while his face beamed, Kelly’s dropped as soon as she saw her. “She’s…scruffier than I pictured,” she murmured, giving me a wary look. But Andy’s attachment was immediate, and he spent the night showing Daisy every inch of the house.
Later, as we were settling into bed, Daisy wouldn’t calm down, pacing and whining at the door. “Can you do something about that?” Kelly said, her irritation evident. Reluctantly, she got up, muttering, “Maybe she just needs a treat,” and after a few minutes of silence, returned to bed.
Around 3 a.m., I awoke to a heavy quiet. Something was off. I walked to Andy’s room and froze—his bed was empty, the sheets tossed aside, and his window slightly ajar. Panic gripped me. I searched every room, calling his name, but he was nowhere. I woke Kelly, and as I shared what happened, I saw a flash of guilt in her eyes that left me unsettled.
“I’ll call the police,” I said, but as I reached for my phone, I heard scratching at the door. When I opened it, Daisy sat there, muddy and exhausted. Relief swept over me as I knelt beside her. “Where did you go?” I whispered, feeling the oddness of talking to a dog but desperate for answers.
Leave a Reply