I wasn’t supposed to be on that train. After spending a sleepless night outside my ex’s apartment – clinging desperately to a love that was already gone – I finally broke. Without thinking, I bought the first available ticket out of the city, not caring where it went. I just needed to escape my own thoughts.
That’s when I noticed him – a golden retriever sitting across from me, his wise eyes seeming to look straight into my soul. There was an unusual calm about him. When he suddenly walked over and rested his heavy head on my knee, even his owner looked surprised. “He never does this with strangers,” the man remarked.
But Buddy stayed.
As the train rattled onward, I found myself whispering my secrets to this gentle creature – the heartache, the humiliation, how I’d completely lost sight of who I was. He listened without judgment, his warm brown eyes never leaving mine.
Then the unthinkable happened. His owner – a quiet man named Sam – invited me to spend the weekend at his remote cabin by Lake Crescent. “No expectations,” he assured me. “But Buddy clearly trusts you.”
Maybe it was exhau$tion. Maybe it was the dog’s unconditional acceptance. Or maybe I just needed to believe in kindness again. Whatever the reason, against all logic, I said yes.