At the side of the road, there was this little body. Not dead, no. But frozen. Exhausted. Too thin for his size. Too calm for such a young dog. He hardly moved. He looked at me, but without really hoping. As if he had already gotten used to the idea that humans pass by… and don’t stop.
I didn’t hesitate for a second.
I stopped, put the bike against the shoulder, and crouched down. He didn’t run away. He no longer had the strength. He let me go when I took him in my arms. He smelled of emptiness, dust, abandonment. But in his eyes, there was still a sparkle. Tiny. But there.
I couldn’t leave him. Not like this. Not here.
So I did what I could. I settled him as best I could, in my arms, on my bike. We weren’t stable, we weren’t fast, but we were moving forward. Together.
And he… he let himself go. He relaxed against me. He placed his paws on my forearm, and he raised his head as if finally looking at the horizon. As if he were saying to himself: Maybe it’s over. Maybe I’m saved.
I rode with him all the way home. One hand on the handlebars, one hand to hold him, protect him, reassure him. We became a team right away. Without a word, without a collar, without a promise.
Today, he’s at my house. He’s gained weight. He runs around the garden, he barks when he wants to play, he follows me everywhere, and above all… he still looks at me like he did that day. With that fragile but powerful trust. The kind you don’t dare give twice in your life.
It wasn’t planned. I hadn’t come for this.
But he was there. He was waiting for me.
And now, he’ll never wait again.
Credit goes to the respective owner.