Waiting For You

Evander remained in the shelter, trapped but unyielding. Every hand that approached him triggered a snarl—and every attempt at closeness from people he rejected. Even those who fed him or tried to pet him could not reach him. His gaze was clear: he would not be tamed, he would not become theirs, but he would never forget Harmony.

Because of his caution and defiance, he was quickly labeled a dangerous dog. The cage he stood in became his fortress, but the notice was clear: euthanasia was scheduled for the next day.

Evander lay on the cold metal floor, tail low, ears alert, yet his eyes still shone with inner strength. Every flicker of the moon seemed like a whisper: Harmony, find me. Every breath was a reminder of his purpose, and his resolve remained unshaken, no matter the fear of what tomorrow would bring.

That day, Harmony began her shelter internship. She could hardly wait to start her work, unaware that this very moment would decide both her future and his. Her duties were simple: care for the animals, clean cages, observe, and assist the staff.

The hallways echoed with barking. Some animals wagged their tails, others lay sadly in the corners of their pens.

While helping to clean one cage, a quiet, almost desperate whine echoed from the far end of the hall. Something compelled her to move toward it, even though it wasn’t her assigned area. At the end of the corridor, her eyes fell on a single dog.

A reddish-brown toller, more than just a dog. He sat in the cage, lifting his head to look directly into her eyes.

She froze. Her heart skipped a beat. That gaze… those eyes. So familiar, so deep, as if she had seen them somewhere before. It was as if someone stood before her, not merely a dog.

She stepped closer and read the piece of paper attached to the bars:

“Last day—euthanasia tomorrow.”

Her heart sank. “No…” she whispered, feeling her hands tremble. She looked at him through the bars, tears welling in her eyes. The dog stood, came to the bars, and pressed his muzzle against them as if he had been waiting for her. His tail began to wag slowly, his eyes glowing with warmth and recognition.

A pain struck her chest, as if she were losing something irreplaceable. She couldn’t explain why, but she knew one thing: she would not let him disappear.

She knelt in front of the cage and whispered:

“I won’t let this happen. I promise.”

The dog barked quietly, almost as if replying, a promise in return.

Still kneeling, she gathered herself. Her heart pounded as she planned her next move. Even as an intern, she knew she had one option: adoption.

Taking a deep breath, she approached the office where the shelter manager sat. She tried to speak calmly, though her voice trembled:

“That dog… in the last hallway… can I adopt him?”

The manager raised an eyebrow. “That one? Dangerous…”

“Please,” she interrupted. Tears glimmered in her eyes, but her voice was firm. “I believe he’s not dangerous. I want to save him. I want to give him a home.”

The manager looked skeptical. “No one is allowed near him.”

“Look,” she said, her tone resolute, “I’ll show you he’s not dangerous. If he really isn’t, you can let me adopt him.”

The manager nodded, and together with the staff, Harmony walked to the toller. The staff exchanged glances. “If you can handle him and prove he’s not dangerous, you can adopt him,” the manager said.

Harmony nodded without hesitation. “Okay.”

As she approached the cage, Evander immediately reacted. His body no longer held back: his eyes lit up, ears perked straight, and his tail whipped with excitement. Seeing her figure, he could barely wait for her to move closer.

Harmony first lifted her hand hesitantly, thinking about what to call him. She didn’t say his real name yet—instead, she simply called him “little friend.” Every step he took was filled with purpose and longing. When he came closer, her hands rose more confidently, and he leaned gently into her palm, ears and tail expressing unwavering joy.

“Good boy,” Harmony murmured, still unaware that this was the Evander she had been searching for all this time. “Let’s show them you’re not dangerous…”

The manager exhaled and muttered, “Fine. But the paperwork still needs to be done. Responsibility is huge.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I will never leave him.”

The dog leapt into her arms as if he understood every word. His tail wagged wildly, and his eyes locked onto her heart. At that moment, she knew she had done the right thing.

When she first brought him home, he was restless, cautious around cats, sniffing everything, pacing here and there—but every time she reached to pet him, he paused and looked her in the eyes. That gaze… always the same. Deep, full of meaning.

Harmony sat on the couch and sighed. “You know, I think I did the right thing,” she said softly. “I don’t know why, but… I feel like you’re more than just a dog. Like our paths weren’t crossing for the first time.”

The dog sat in front of her, tail wagging, then slowly climbed onto the couch. He nudged her hand with his muzzle and licked her fingers.

She laughed through her tears. “Does that mean yes?”

He barked—one firm, decisive bark. A clear answer.

Harmony hugged him, and he rested his head contentedly in her lap. In her heart, she knew this was no coincidence.

“You’re a very special dog,” she whispered, “I promise I’ll protect you, no matter what.”

He barked again and gently licked her cheek.

“Okay,” she laughed. “It’ll take me time to understand you… but somehow I know we’ll find our way together.”

When Harmony lay down on her bed, the dog jumped up and rested his head on her stomach. She petted him gently.

In the following days, she noticed that her new “little friend” was different. When she said, “Sit,” he sat, even though she had never taught him. When she said, “Come,” he responded almost like a person, not a dog. His gaze was always so focused, as if he understood every word.

In the evenings, when she studied at the table, he lay by her chair. Sometimes he lifted his head and watched her intently, as if trying to say something. She would laugh and say,

“What is it? I know you understand more than you should.”

He would bark once, short and clear, and wag his tail joyfully.

Even stranger, during walks, whenever someone got too close, he stepped forward, ears up, taking a protective stance. But when she placed her hand on his back and said, “It’s okay,” he immediately relaxed. As if he were her personal guardian.

One evening, while sitting on the couch together, Harmony whispered thoughtfully,

“Sometimes… I feel like you’re the prince from my dreams.”

The dog looked at her, his eyes shining in the lamp light, and tapped the couch twice with his tail, as if to say: yes, exactly.

Her heart leapt. But her mind whispered: no, impossible.