I hadn’t seen it before—hadn’t seen what he saw. A dog that didn’t care if her fur was uneven, if her tail had a kink, or if she didn’t belong on a breeder’s certificate. A dog who chose him. Who needed him.
And who, in her own weird way, had saved something in him that I hadn’t realized needed saving.
I sank to my knees beside them.
“She can stay,” I said, voice trembling. “She belongs here.”
He smiled through his tears, and Daisy wagged like crazy, plopping her head into my lap.
That was three months ago.