This is a completely ordinary story.

Painfully simple, really.

My old dog passed away, so I could give a home to another.

I went to the shelter, I chose Trombocyt.

Why him?

Because I live in a small apartment.

Because I have cats.

Because he’s small, not just gentle but almost comically harmless – clumsy and sweet.

I signed the adoption papers, clipped on the leash, and we went home.

That’s it.

Why a shelter dog, not one from a breeder?

Because I always adopt older dogs, the ones no one wants anymore.

Because not many people choose them.

And they need it the most – normalcy, a human, a blanket, and a bowl.

Because an old animal is not a yogurt past its expiry date you toss in the trash.

The adoption itself was simple.

Two shelter visits.

One signature.

A small fee.

Done.

Trombocyt settled in immediately – in a matter of hours.

He got along with the cats.

He fell in love with the youngest kitten.

He won over my mom’s heart.

He’s good.

Hopelessly attached to us.

A bit autistic, always absent-minded, and still desperately guarding his food bowl.

And yet, I love him most of all just for being here.

Adopting an animal is something extraordinary – for both sides.

Two worlds meet: human and dog.

They get to know each other.

And then, they start to enjoy each other’s company.

I can’t really say who gains more.

The dog gets a home.

The human… gets happiness.

Yes, I’ll adopt again.

When Trombocyt takes his final watch – I will.

And I’ll adopt more, until I’m too old to walk a dog anymore.

That’s all.

No drama.

No big declarations.

Just a dog.

A leash.

A home.

And love.