It’s hard to write about my dogs without tears welling up. Every time I think about them — especially Shiro — a thousand feelings rise all at once. There’s joy, gratitude, pain, and something softer too… maybe peace. I’ve always loved animals, every single one of them. But the bond I had with my first dog, Haidar, changed something inside me forever, and that bond made space for the love I now share with Shiro.
This isn’t just Shiro’s story. This is also Haidar’s legacy.
🐾 Haidar: The Guardian Angel Who Chose Me
Haidar came into my life in December 2020 — but truly, he was born into it. I was there the moment he entered this world, the first pup from my beloved dog Samy. I cared for him when he was blind and helpless, held him through every stage of growth, and before I knew it, he had become my baby.
He wasn’t just calm — he was serenity in fur. The kind of dog who never growled, never bit, never caused a moment of fear. Just quiet love. Gentle eyes. A soul that felt older than his years.
Whenever life got hard, and it often did, Haidar was there. He wouldn’t try to fix it — he’d just sit next to me, breathing softly, silently holding space for me to fall apart. And somehow, that was always enough.
He was more than a pet. He was my emotional compass. My protector. My angel.
In June 2024, I lost him.
A sudden paralysis from tick fever took away the use of his body, and no amount of effort, prayer, or medicine could bring him back. Watching him suffer — powerless to change anything — was one of the hardest things I’ve ever lived through. But maybe some souls are only meant to stay for a little while. Maybe Haidar had already given me everything I needed.
And even though he’s gone… he’s not gone. I feel him around me still. In the quiet moments. In the sunrays that hit my window just right. In the way Shiro sometimes curls up next to me like he’s been here before.
🐶 Shiro: A New Beginning, Not a Replacement
I adopted Shiro a few months after Haidar passed.
Let me be clear — Shiro did not replace Haidar. No soul could ever fill that space.
But my heart was heavy with grief. And sometimes, grief isn’t something you “get over.” Sometimes, you just need something soft and warm to carry with you.
That’s what Shiro did.
From the moment he came home, he carved out a new space in my life — playful, innocent, curious. His presence didn’t erase the pain, but it reminded me that love doesn’t end. It transforms. And it’s possible to love again, even with a broken heart.
There are days when I catch Shiro looking at me a certain way, and I swear I see Haidar’s soul in his eyes. Like maybe — just maybe — Haidar sent him.
🐕 Giving Back: Honoring Haidar Through Compassion
Losing Haidar broke me open. But in that brokenness, something shifted.
I started feeding strays, rescuing animals in distress, and fostering those who had no one. Not just in Haidar’s memory, but because he taught me how. He showed me that love isn’t loud or flashy. It’s patient. It’s consistent. It’s there, even when no one’s watching.
And here’s the thing: You don’t need to save every animal. You don’t have to start a shelter or change the whole world.
You just need to care enough to help one.
Feed the stray you pass every morning. Adopt instead of buying. Volunteer. Share. Support. Because every small act of kindness creates a ripple.
A Final Word — From My Heart to Yours
If you’ve ever loved a dog, you already know — they’re not “just pets.”
They’re family. Healers. Teachers. And sometimes, they’re the ones holding us together when we feel like falling apart.
I still miss Haidar every single day. But I also hold deep gratitude for Shiro, who made space in my grieving heart for joy again.
So here’s what I ask of you: The next time you see an animal in need, don’t look away. Show up. Even if it’s just once. Even if it’s small.
You never know how much that act of love might mean to them.
And honestly? You never know how much it might mean to you.
— In memory of Haidar. With love for Shiro.
And with the hope that more hearts will choose kindness.
