It’s been three winters on the streets, and I’ve learned how to survive the cold. But Milo doesn’t understand why we don’t have a home anymore. He just curls up beside me, trusting that I’ll keep him safe.
I found this old umbrella last week. It’s falling apart, but it keeps the rain off him. That’s all that matters.
People walk by, some glance, some ignore us. A few drop coins, which I save for his food. He eats first. Always.
A woman stopped once, kneeling beside us. I thought she was going to judge me, but instead, she asked, “Does he have a name?”
“Milo,” I replied, my voice rough from silence.
She smiled and said, “You take good care of him.” Then she asked, “What’s your name?”
“Sam.”
She hesitated before asking, “Would you consider letting someone help you two?”
I stiffened. “I’m not giving him up.”
She nodded. “That’s not what I meant. What if… what if there was another way?” She left me a card: Hope Haven Animal Sanctuary, with an address and number.
I didn’t throw the card away, though I wanted to. But days later, I found myself at their doorstep. Inside, an older man welcomed me and Milo, explaining their program: temporary housing, meals, medical care—no strings attached. They wanted to help us stay together.
For the first time in years, I allowed myself to believe things could change.
Weeks later, I saw the woman again. “How’s it going?” she asked.
“Better than I ever thought possible,” I replied. “Thank you.”
She smiled. “Thank yourself. You took the first step.”
Months later, I stood outside an apartment, keys in hand. Thanks to Hope Haven, I had a job and a home for Milo and me. Life wasn’t perfect, but we had each other, and I knew asking for help was the bravest thing I could do.
If you’re struggling, don’t give up. Ask for help. There are people who care. And sometimes, those people might surprise you.