LOGINPolly is an Aspin who got separated from his mother and brothers when he was very young. He struggled to keep himself alive. He wanted to belong but what he got was rejection after rejection, heartache after heartache - yet he marched on with his leg that could not be bent. This is a story of survival - a story of hope - that even with his leg that could not be bent, love is possible.
View MoreThe house felt different now. It wasn’t just quiet — it was the kind of silence that pressed on the chest and lingered in the corners. Even the wind seemed to move more gently, as though afraid to disturb what remained.For days, it felt as if time had forgotten him. Polly would lie near the kitchen doorway, watching Terry move quietly through the house. The bowls were filled, the beds were made, but the air carried a hollow ache. Sometimes Polly would glance toward the kitchen, his ears perking up, as though expecting Popo to appear again. But the silence that followed pierced his heart all over again.Terry tried to smile, but her eyes were swollen from nights that had forgotten sleep. She still whispered Popo’s name when she thought no one could hear. Sometimes, she’d stop in the middle of folding the blankets and hold one close to her chest — the one Popo used to lie on. Polly would watch, his tail still, his heart aching for the woman who had given him a home.Bantay grieved in h
Heartworm was a cruel disease. Terry had read about it before, but she never knew what cruelty really meant until she saw it stealing Popo’s strength day by day. He had always been the calm one, the steady soul among her dogs — the one who never fought for attention, who simply waited patiently for love to come his way.But as the days went by, Popo’s ribs began to show, and his once shiny coat lost its glow. Still, when Terry called his name, his tail would wag, faint but full of loyalty. Even as his body weakened, his love stayed strong.Feeding him became an act of devotion. When he could no longer eat on his own, Terry used a syringe to feed him soft food and water. Each drop felt like a prayer — a tiny act of hope that maybe tomorrow would be kinder. Money was tight, yet she never missed a single medicine schedule. Even when she skipped meals herself, she made sure Popo got his care. Love has a way of making sacrifice feel like second nature.For a month, they fought side by side
The mornings had grown quieter.Popo, once the first to bark for breakfast, now took longer to rise. His once-bright eyes seemed dimmer, his steps slower. Polly noticed how Terry would linger by his side, her hand resting on Popo’s back a little longer than usual.“Good morning, my good boy,” Terry would whisper. Her voice carried a softness Polly couldn’t quite understand, but he felt it — like a tremble beneath the calm.Popo still wagged his tail, but it was slower now, gentler, as if every motion had to be borrowed from the past. Polly watched from the corner of his crate, his heart unsure of what he was seeing. Popo had always been strong — the wise one, the patient one. He was the one who let Polly share his crate, the one who never snapped when food was scarce, the one who stood between him and Bantay when they used to argue over bones.But now, Popo slept more than he barked. Sometimes, he coughed. Other times, he stared at nothing, as though remembering something far away.Te
Polly lay in his crate, pretending to sleep as Terry’s footsteps echoed faintly from the kitchen. He could smell her scent—soap and bread and the faint trace of something floral that clung to her clothes. It was the kind of smell that felt like home, and that terrified him.He didn’t want to get used to it.He had been used to things before—warmth, love, safety—and each time they were taken away. The last time it happened, the ache almost killed him. He had promised himself: never again. Never let the heart lead. Never love too much.But love had a way of sneaking in through the cracks of caution.“Polly!” Terry’s voice called from the back door, bright and lilting. “Come here, boy!”He tucked his head under his paw. Maybe if he stayed still, she would think he was asleep.“Polly?” She stepped closer, kneeling by his crate. Her face appeared between the bars—soft eyes, lips curved into a smile. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s stretch those legs.”He turned his face away.Tagpi, lounging a






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