It’s a quiet ache that settles in my heart the moment I notice something is off. He isn’t his usual playful, bouncing self. No wag of the tail. No excited chirps. Just tired eyes and a silence that says more than words ever could. When he doesn’t feel good, neither do I.
It’s in the way he lays his head on my lap, seeking comfort without asking. I can feel the weight of his pain, though he never complains. He trusts me — with his heart, his safety, his whole world. And in that moment, all I want to do is take away whatever is making him feel this way. I’d trade places if I could.
I hover a little more. I watch his breathing. I check his water bowl, his food, his temperature, his eyes. I search for signs, try to decode every shift in his behavior. He’s more than just a pet — he’s a part of my soul. When he’s hurting, I can’t pretend to carry on like everything’s okay. My day revolves around making sure he’s comfortable, that he knows I’m right here.
I cancel plans. I whisper softly. I hold him a little tighter. Because he’s been there for me on my worst days, with no conditions, no judgments — just love. Now it’s my turn to be his steady place.
It’s in moments like these that I realize how deep our bond runs. It’s not just about the joy he brings when he’s happy and healthy. It’s also about standing by him when he’s not. Even in sickness or sadness, he deserves to be cared for like the family he is.
Because when he doesn’t feel good, neither do I. And I’ll do everything in my power to help him feel better — even if it’s just by being there, loving him, the way he’s always loved me.
