Buddy Do you believe in light?
We are your light. You must keep going. Buddy.
You have to fight, okay? You will be fine. It will get better.
An hour ago, volunteers received a message from passersby.
A dog had been lying by the roadside for a long time.
When they arrived, everyone was s.h σcked.
This dirty, disheveled dog had a huge t.u ḿor on its head.
Long strands of saliva hung from its mouth.
When it saw people coming closer,
it lay on the ground, rolled onto its back, and tried to please them.
As if asking for love. Volunteers took it away immediately.
I can’t imagine what it has been through.
How it managed to hold on until now.
We rushed it to the hospital.
All the way there, the dog kept wagging its tail.
The doctor said the t.u ḿor area was very large.
It had already caused bone dissolution.
Its condition was extremely serious.
The doctor stated there was no need for treatment.
While shaving its fur, the little tail kept wagging.
It didn’t seem to understand how severe its condition was.
Tongue out. A smile on its face.
Once, it must have been someone’s treasure.
Held in their arms. Loved.
Now abandoned on the streets because of il.l חess.
The little one could still eat and drink.
Maybe it had been hungry for a long time.
Its appetite was surprisingly good.
We took it to another hospital.
After looking at the X-ray, the doctor expressed helplessness.
They named the dog Buddy
Two hospitals in a row refused to treat him.
Does that mean he really has to be abandoned?
Where will he go? What will happen to him?
Compared to other dogs, same breed,
completely different fate.
He used to be beautiful too.
Now ravaged by il.l חess, almost unrecognizable.
No one knows how long it had been since his last bath.
When the warm water touched him, Buddy felt kindness again.
It had been so long since he received care and affection.
A full meal alone was enough to make him satisfied.
When he ran toward the volunteers, he smiled.
He found people who loved him.
At the third hospital, the doctor again said there was no way to treat him.
Many people began suggesting eut.h αnasia.
But he could eat. He could drink. His spirit was good.
How could anyone give up on him?
We went to the fourth hospital.
Buddy wagged his tail. He seemed in a good mood.
This doctor said they could try treating him.
Those words gave Buddy hope.
There was finally a hospital willing to help.
In his eyes, you could see a strong will to live.
He wanted to survive.
On the second day of hospitalization, volunteers brought him food.
He got excited as soon as he saw it.
He ate eagerly, big bites, full of joy.
His condition improved day by day.
He even made new friends, often trying to play
with nearby kittens.
Stronger and more optimistic than anyone imagined.
Because the t.u ḿor was b.l ℮ḿeding, the doctor suggested
a b.l σod transfusion and tissue sampling.
Fortunately, the b.l σod types matched. Good news at last.
Buddy was moving in a positive direction. Hope appeared again.
Every time we looked at the massive s.w ℮lling on his head, it was impossible to imagine
how much p.a ìn he had endured.
Yet every time food arrived, Buddy was happy.
He had never eaten such good food before.
He loved being touched.
When he saw a toy ball, he became so excited.
After all, he was just a puppy a little over one year old.
The doctor took another sample from the affected area and sent it for testing.
There was light in Buddy’s eyes.
The results came back.
The s.w ℮lling was not a t.u ḿor.
But the doctor said the location was extremely difficult.
Surgery was simply impossible.
Only other methods could be tried.
That small hope was shaken again.
Still, as long as there was hope,
we refused to give up.
Buddy was taken for a CT scan.
On the way, he was calm and cooperative.
All indicators were normal.
We prayed for a good result.
But the outcome was heartb.r ℮aking.
The s.w ℮lling had invaded the entire head,
affecting critical brain nerves.
Bones were dissolved.
Surgery was impossible.
What would happen
to Buddy now?
Still, we stayed with him.
No matter what the future held. Another puncture was done.
As long as there was even a glimmer of hope, we would not give up.
The final diagnosis came.
Buddy has vascular fibroma. M.a łignant g.r σwth.
Surgery is not possible.
But it can be controlled with medication.
The medicine is rare and must be given with precise dosage, mixed into his food.
As long as there is hope, we will keep fighting.
Two months later…
With careful care from kind-hearted people, Buddy gained weight.
He has been taking his medicine.
We don’t know how long he will live.
But we believe in miracles.
We hope that every day from now on he feels warmth, love, and safety.
Buddy, you are amazing.
May the rest of your life be without regret.
May you be happy every single day.
➕
