1,171 hearts
Clyde was my soulmate in dog form. On the morning he left us, a rainbow arched over the sky — and I knew he was telling me he'd landed somewhere safe, finally free of pain. Exactly one year later, down to the day, another rainbow appeared. Then, on my 50th birthday, he sent me a third. When I turned 65, I got a small rainbow-and-bridge tattoo. No name needed — everyone who knows me knows exactly who it honors. One day we'll be together again, and what a reunion that will be! — Cindy Bonner
Midnight had been dumped at a shelter, chained up outside, skin-and-bones, starved of affection and company. The moment I walked up to her kennel and she pressed her body against the bars, craving my touch, I knew she was one of a kind. She was two when I brought her home — a grown German Shepherd with zero social graces, so those first months were brutal. But three years on, she's a gentle, well-mannered teddy bear who's carried me through my roughest patches. I may have saved her, but she's been saving me ever since. — Gabrielle Carlson
Jasper came to us from Columbus Humane in Ohio, a PTSD transfer from the state's rural southeast. A Treeing Walker Coonhound who'd been caught in a barbed-wire fence during a December blizzard, he'd likely been lost on a hunt. At the shelter he looked so heartbroken we figured no one would ever pick him. So we leapt. It wasn't an easy start, but just look at our boy now — a full five years in our pack as of February 2023. Still a little emotionally frayed, but a healthy, happy, wildly loving doggo. — MD Cohn
Tragedy struck when we said goodbye to our female pup — a loss that cracked our hearts wide open. Then, scrolling endlessly one night, I found this little girl who needed a home. She was only four weeks old, but we just knew she'd been meant to find us. Now six months on, Link is thriving, exploring the world a few excited steps at a time. — Anna Reeves
Back in 1985, I worked in one of New York's toughest neighborhoods. A scrawny stray started trailing me — my very first dog, whom I named Scottie. We boarded the subway together, and I silently begged the transit workers not to toss us off. I've volunteered at shelters since 1989, from Maine to Colorado to Arizona. Ever since, a steady line of castoffs has wandered into my life: Maxine, Midnight, Dharma, Harry, Judy, Dottie, Flash, Oscar, Luke, Dolly, George, Franny, Ziggy, Lucy, Fred, Casey, and Whitley. Some were old, some blind or deaf, some simply homeless. I loved every single one. — Debra J. White
My youngest chi, Marg A. Rita, is 20 months old and joined us at about three and a half months. She's a classic puppy — boundless energy, whipping through new words and tricks at lightning speed. Around six months, we'd stroll in from shopping to find a perfect equilateral triangle arranged from her Lambchop toys on the floor. Then triangles, arrows, and other shapes began showing up. Finally, I caught her at it — blazing fast and fiercely proud of her creations. She sits back and wags her tail like an artist admiring her work. — Vicki Mains
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