He stood still on the side of the road. An old, white dog, completely blind, covered in dirt and fear. His eyes couldn’t see, but his body told a story of pain and loneliness. He had no one. No home. No idea where to go.
When help arrived, there was no struggle. A red and yellow leash slipped gently over his head. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t run. He simply allowed himself to be led away, tired and confused. His name would come later. For now, he was just a forgotten soul, abandoned when he needed love the most.
As soon as the rescuer shared his photo, Loreta, her wife, started preparing a warm meal. Her heart broke. She could see the weight of sadness in his face. A name was suggested, and it was Gandalf. It was perfect for this gentle, wise old soul.
At his first meal, Gandalf sniffed the food slowly, unsure if it was really for him. A few bites from a caring hand, and he began to eat on his own. It was a small moment. But it meant everything.
His coat was filthy, full of fleas and old sores. He stood quietly as it was shaved away. Warm water poured over him. Soft hands dried him. He didn’t move much, but his body leaned in, just a little. Like he was finally letting go of fear.
His eyes couldn’t be saved, but his spirit still held a flicker of light.
Gandalf was placed in a loving foster home thanks to the kindness of those at Maison Sure. He wore colorful sweaters. He sunbathed in soft grass. He gently wagged his tail when someone called his name. He felt safe. He felt at home.
He cuddled with other dogs. He rolled over for belly rubs. He ate good food. He was loved.
Then, one month after his rescue, his body began to fail. His strength faded quickly. But this time, he wasn’t alone. He had a family. He had hands that held him and voices that comforted him. His final breaths came under soft kisses and tearful goodbyes.
Gandalf left the world knowing love. That made all the difference.
He was abandoned once, but never again.
Rest peacefully, sweet Gandalf. You were seen. You were loved. You mattered.
