It was my usual jog through the park trail, headphones in, mind drifting. That’s when I saw him—an older man with a long white beard, dragging a little cart behind him. In it was a dog—gray-faced, stiff, barely moving. Another younger dog trotted beside them.
He looked up slowly. His eyes were tired, but calm.
“He’s not suffering,” he said. “He’s just old. Same as me.”
I didn’t know what to say to that.
He glanced down at the dog and ran a hand over its back. “He saved my life,” he said, real soft. “Back when I didn’t care if I saw another morning, he wouldn’t let me stay in bed. Made me walk. Made me eat. Made me laugh again.”
Then he looked at me—like really looked.
“Now he can’t walk, so I walk for him. That’s the deal.”
English