Every day, I sit by the corner of my kennel — quiet, hopeful, trying not to wish too hard.

I see them come in — families, couples, children with excited eyes. They stroll down the rows of wagging tails and eager faces. They stop for the little puppies, the fluffy ones, the playful jumpers. I don’t blame them. They’re adorable. Who wouldn’t want cute?

They pass by me. Some smile politely. Most don’t look at all.

And I hear the soft murmurs, the quick whispers: “Not that one…”

Maybe it’s because my fur is patchy in places. Or that my eyes look a little tired from all the waiting. Maybe I’m too old, too quiet, too ordinary.

I don’t have a fairy-tale face or shiny Instagram charm. My photos don’t “pop.” I’m not the one people point to and say, “Aww, that’s the one!”

But still, I wait.

Because behind these quiet eyes is a heart that knows how to love deeply. A soul that has been broken and healed and still chooses to trust. I won’t run to the gate barking — but if you sit with me long enough, I’ll rest my head gently on your lap and tell you everything without a word.

I’m not looking for perfect. Just someone who sees me — really sees me — and chooses me anyway.

And maybe, just maybe, one day someone will stop… and instead of whispering “Not that one,” they’ll kneel down, look me in the eyes, and say,

“This one. Definitely this one.” 💔🐾