It all began with an urgent call.
A dog was reported in c.r ìtical condition — her belly so swollen it looked as if it could burst at any moment.
When we arrived, we were left speechless.
An old, fragile dog sat on the ground, barely able to move.
Her body was exhausted, her breathing labored, her belly p.a ìnfully heavy with fluid.
And yet… when she saw us, she wagged her tail.
That moment broke our hearts.
How could she still greet humans with love after everything she had endured?
Her name is Youngji.
For 16 long years, she lived chained outside.
She never knew warmth.
Never slept indoors.
Never felt what real care meant.
Her owner told us she was “too old,” that she had “already lived her life.”
Those words c.u ŧ deeper than anything else.
We didn’t argue.
We simply asked to take her.
After a long and p.a ìnful conversation, they agreed.
And in that moment, we promised Youngji she would finally know love.
At the veterinary clinic, the truth was de.v αstating.
Youngji was s.u ƒfering from heartworm, heart di.s ℮ase, and severe lung da.m αge.
Her organs were failing.
The veterinarian looked at us quietly and said,
“Her condition is c.r ìtical.
It’s a miracle she’s still alive.”
Her abdomen was filled with fluid.
Liters were carefully drained to ease her s.u ƒfering — giving her small moments of relief.
But with every procedure, one thought haunted us:
How long had she lived like this?
Ignored. Unseen. Unloved.
Her medical history showed she had been taken to a clinic before —
but the care she received was never enough.
If only someone had noticed sooner.
If only someone had cared just a little more.
And still, Youngji never complained.
Even when breathing was difficult, she rested her head in our hands,
accepting every touch with quiet trust.
How does a soul like this still choose love?
We placed soft blankets beside her,
but she chose the cold floor — perhaps because that was all she had ever known.
Recovery was slow.
At first, she couldn’t stand.
Even a few steps left her struggling for air.
But she kept trying.
One small step at a time.
Her legs trembled, her back bent,
yet every time someone came near, her tail wagged gently.
As if she were saying,
“Because of you… I’m still here.”
Youngji’s story is not just medical.
It is emotional.
It reflects the silent s.u ƒfering of so many “yard dogs” —
fed just enough to survive,
but never given warmth, care, or love.
We don’t know how much time Youngji has left.
But we know this:
Every day from now on
will be filled with comfort, compassion, and dignity.
And for the first time in her life,
she will never be alone. 🐾❤️
➕
