One day, while I was relaxing at home, I suddenly heard loud gunfire. I rushed outside, confused and worried, just in time to see my neighbors taking Duke’s mom away on the back of their truck.
After that day, Duke began spending almost every day at our house. I asked my neighbors what his name was, but all they said was that they just called him “Dog.” A couple of months later, they stopped feeding him altogether. I couldn’t stand to see him go hungry, so I started giving him food myself.
When they were getting ready to move, I asked if I could take Duke since it was clear they didn’t care about him. The son said yes. But the next day, Duke was gone—and so were they.
I tried contacting the son to ask if he had taken Duke with him, but he became defensive and even threatened me. I explained that I didn’t have Duke, but he called me a liar and hung up.
Determined to find him, I posted Missing Pet flyers at vet offices within a 25-mile radius.
Five months later, I got a call from the UPS driver who delivers in our neighborhood. He said he had seen a dog in a field who looked like Duke—and he didn’t look well. I thanked him, rushed to the location, and there he was: Duke, skinny, weak, and scared. But the moment he saw me and heard my voice, he perked up and ran straight into my arms.
Today, Duke is healthy, happy, and loved. He has three other dogs and three cats to play with, and now we’re one big family. ❤️
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