Sometimes, Healing Starts with a Dog
I wasn’t supposed to be on that train. After crying for hours outside my ex’s apartment, I grabbed the first ticket I could find. I needed air. Distance. Something to remind me I was still alive.
That’s when I saw him—a golden retriever sitting upright like a passenger. His eyes met mine with surprising depth, like he knew. Moments later, he gently placed his head on my knee. His owner, Sam, was shocked: “Buddy doesn’t usually do that.”
Somehow, I found myself telling Buddy everything—my heartbreak, regret, and how I’d lost myself in a toxic relationship. When the train arrived…
