She lay among the fallen leaves, like a broken toy — forgotten, useless. Her red fur, once soft and shiny, had now lost its color and was tangled in tangles. Her body trembled with weakness, but she no longer tried to get up. Her eyes, once lively and trusting, looked into nowhere. She seemed to be waiting for the end, knowing that no one else would come. Rags, plastic bottles, garbage were lying around. The person to whom she had once given her heart had left her here as simply as one would take out an unnecessary bag of garbage.
Her name was Lada. Once she ran around the yard, guarded the house, greeted her owner with a joyful bark, jumped up to his hands. She lived only for this — to look, to touch, to be praised. But the illness had robbed her of her strength: her paws were weak, food brought no joy. Instead of affection, she saw anger. “Enough of me,” the owner muttered. “The children will be traumatized when you die. Get out.” He took her out to the forest, threw her on the side of the road, sprinkled her with leaves, and left. He didn’t even look back.
She tried to get up, reached for him, but her legs gave out. She looked at his back and thought: “Why are you leaving? I’m yours…” She waited for him to return. But only the wind returned.
For the first few days, she called him — first with a soft whine, then with a desperate bark. No one came. Passersby looked, shook their heads: “She must be sick.” And they walked on. For them, she was no longer a dog. She was just a problem.
The nights became torture. The cold penetrated to the bones. She pressed herself to the ground, seeking warmth in the dry leaves. She dreamed of her childhood — how she was running across a field, and a familiar voice sounded ahead. She woke up — and saw only emptiness.
Sometimes she talked to herself. «You have to get up, Lada. You have to. But why? For whom? After all, no one is leaving…» These words were the only thing that kept her consciousness. She knew: if she fell silent even for herself — it would be the end.
Once a car stopped nearby. Two teenagers got out, laughing, pointing. «Look, he’s going to die soon,» one said. The other threw a can at her. She didn’t move. Not because she didn’t feel it. But because she had no strength left to believe in good.
And yet one woman stopped. She was driving by and saw a red shadow in the leaves. She got out, approached, leaned over. She looked into her eyes. There was such silence that the woman’s heart sank. She whispered:
— Are you alive? Please bear with me. I will help.
Lada moved her eyelids. It was like consent. The woman called the volunteers: “There is a dog here… exhausted, abandoned. Come quickly.”
When they picked her up, she was as light as an empty shell. In the car, she didn’t resist, she didn’t whine, she just put her head on the woman’s lap. As if to say: “If this is the end, let it be warm.”
In the clinic, the doctors shook their heads: “Severe exhaustion, dehydration, anemia, infection. But her eyes are clear. She still wants to live.” And the struggle began. IVs, injections, warm blankets. She endured everything in silence, only occasionally glancing at the door — as if checking to see if anyone had come for her.
The first days were the hardest. She refused to eat, lay staring at the wall. The doctors were afraid that her body would give up. But that woman sat next to her every day and whispered:
— Lada, I need you. Do you hear? You need me. Don’t you dare leave.
And one day Lada took a step towards life. She took a small piece of bread from her hand. It was a sign: she decided to fight.
Weeks passed. Her body got stronger, her fur began to shine again, and light appeared in her eyes. She was no longer lying among the garbage — she was lying on a soft bed, surrounded by care.
And then the most important thing happened. A family came to the shelter — a husband, wife, and their son. The boy saw Lada and immediately ran up to her:
— Mom, look! Her eyes are sad. Can I have her?
The woman sighed: “But she’s old…” But the man replied quietly: “Look at the way she looks at him. She needs him just as much as he needs her.”
When the boy reached out his hand, Lada didn’t flinch. She inhaled his scent and for the first time in months, her tail wagged. Her heart, broken so many times, chose to trust again.
Now she has a new home. She no longer sleeps in the garbage and waits for death. She lives. And she thanks him every day. She is still afraid of sharp sounds, flinches at footsteps behind her. But when she hears her name, she raises her head and walks towards him.
I often think: what would have happened if that woman hadn’t stopped? If she had driven past like everyone else? Lada would have faded into the silence among the dry leaves. And no one would have learned her story. But fate decreed otherwise. She was thrown out like garbage. But she was found. And now she knows: even those who were betrayed in their most difficult moment have a chance for a miracle.
➕
