MAYBE BEING CHOSEN.

I lost Murphy almost a year ago. One of the hardest things I’ve gone through, and probably something I’ll write about one day. But this isn’t that post.

This is about something quieter. Something that’s still unfolding.

There’s a dog. A she. One that’s never had a home. Not really. She barely made it past her first weeks, and she’s been living in a vet clinic ever since. Eight months, give or take. That place is all she knows.

Lately, I’ve started visiting her. Every day, when I can.

She’s scared. Of course she is. She flinches easily, doesn’t know what to do with kindness, and isn’t sure whether to come closer or stay in the corner. I get it. There’s no trust yet. No story between us. Just time. And the slow, patient work of showing up.

I don’t know how long it will take.

But maybe, just maybe, I’m being adopted.