There are moments in life when love arrives quietly—without ceremony, without words. For me, it came in the form of two street dogs, their eyes full of dust and light, who chose me before I ever thought to choose myself.
We met in the heart of winter, when everything felt a little too cold—outside and inside. I was in a place where my thoughts felt like shadows, my days too silent. But that season, I offered them a soft blanket and a small corner of safety. I didn’t realize it then, but I wasn’t just giving them warmth. I was building a bridge back to my own heart.
Since that day, they come to find me. Without fail. Same time, same place—like clockwork, but more sacred. They greet me not just with wagging tails but with a kind of loyalty that doesn’t ask questions. They don't need to know why I was struggling. They just stayed. I named them - Leo and Jackie.
They followed me everywhere - shops, temples, my daily walk - just like two bodyguards on duty. They are my protectors, my silent companions, my best friends. They met me in one of the darkest phases of my life and brought so much of light and love that my words can't express.
One of them has been coming to see me every single day for over a year now. No matter the weather. No matter the hour. His arrival is a quiet reminder that consistency is love, and that love doesn't always come dressed in perfection—it comes hungry, dusty, full of heart, and entirely real.
They taught me how to trust again. In the world, in myself, in the simple fact that connection doesn’t need to be explained to be understood. Their love is wordless, but it has more depth than most conversations I’ve had.
People talk about therapy, and yes, that helps. But sometimes, healing comes with muddy paws and warm eyes. Sometimes, your saviors don’t speak your language, but they understand your silence.
We found each other when we needed it most. And in that exchange—unspoken, humble, and deeply true—we built a friendship more honest than anything I’ve ever known.