Joki’s kennel was neatly arranged; the volunteers did their best to keep it clean. A soft blanket lay under him, but the chill of loneliness made even the warmest blanket feel cold. Every day, people would walk by his kennel, their faces lighting up with excitement as they met other dogs—dogs that were younger, prettier, or more playful. And every time, Joki’s tail would wag eagerly, his eyes shining with longing.
But every time, his hope was crushed.
“Look at this one! He’s so cute!” a child exclaimed, pointing to a small, fluffy puppy two kennels away.
Joki stood up, pressing his nose against the metal bars, his tail wagging furiously. “I can be cute too,” his heart cried.
The child glanced at Joki briefly, but her mother pulled her away. “He’s too old, honey. Let’s look at the puppies.”
Joki’s tail slowed. Then it stopped. As the family walked away, his legs gave out, and he slumped to the cold floor of his kennel. He tried to tell himself that maybe the next person would stop. Maybe the next visitor would notice him.
The shelter was bustling that day, filled with people looking for new pets. Each time the door opened, Joki’s ears perked up, and he would get to his feet with renewed hope. He sat upright, his eyes wide and bright, his tail thumping the ground softly as if whispering, *Pick me. Please pick me.*
But one by one, the visitors passed by his kennel. Some didn’t even glance in his direction. Others looked for a moment, frowned, and kept walking. “He’s not what we’re looking for,” a young couple said, not even pausing to let him greet them.
Joki whimpered quietly, pressing his paw against the bars. His heart ached with every step that took them further away. He tried so hard to understand—why didn’t anyone want him? Was it because he wasn’t playful enough? Or maybe it was his dull, worn fur? Or was it because he wasn’t as young as the other dogs?
The day wore on, and with every rejection, Joki’s hope faded a little more. His tail stopped wagging altogether, and he rested his head on his paws.
As evening approached, the shelter began to quiet down. The visitors slowly trickled away, and soon, the lights inside dimmed. Joki watched as the other dogs snuggled into their blankets or rested their heads, some already dreaming of the homes they might soon have.
But Joki lay wide awake, his heart heavy with sadness. A single tear rolled down his cheek. He had tried so hard—every wag, every hopeful look, every bark of greeting. And yet, no one had chosen him.
In the silence, the weight of loneliness settled over him like a thick fog. “What’s wrong with me?” he thought, his chest aching. “Why doesn’t anyone want me?”
Joki cried quietly, the soft whimpers lost in the empty room. His tears soaked into his blanket, and he closed his eyes, wishing he could dream of a place where he was wanted, where someone loved him, and where he belonged.
As the night deepened, a volunteer named Sarah walked quietly down the rows of kennels, checking on the dogs before heading home. When she reached Joki’s kennel, she noticed his tear-streaked face and his trembling body curled up in the corner. Her heart ached for him.
“Hey, sweetheart,” she whispered, kneeling beside his kennel. Joki lifted his head slowly, his eyes meeting hers. She reached through the bars to stroke his head gently, and for the first time that day, Joki felt a flicker of warmth.
“You’ve had a rough day, haven’t you?” Sarah whispered. Joki gave a soft whimper in response, pressing his head into her hand.
Sarah sat there with him for a long while, whispering soft words of comfort. “I know it’s hard, but someone will see how special you are, Joki. I promise.”
Joki didn’t know if her words were true, but for that moment, he didn’t feel quite so alone. And for the first time in a long while, his tail gave the tiniest wag—a small, hopeful thump against the cold floor.
And though Joki didn’t know it yet, Sarah’s words were more than just a promise. They were a beginning. Because sometimes, love finds us when we least expect it—and Joki’s forever home was just one day away.
