Today started like any other, but it ended with my heart in pieces—and then put back together again.

I was at the shelter, just to donate some old blankets. I wasn’t planning on adding to our family. But then I saw him. Tucked into the furthest corner, shaking so violently his small claws were clicking against the floor. He looked so small, so utterly broken.

The staff told me his story—abandoned in an empty apartment for weeks. He’d survived, but he’d forgotten what love felt like. He wouldn’t make eye contact. He didn’t bark. He just waited.

I knelt down, my hand pressed against the chain-link. It took ten agonizing minutes before he even lifted his head. Our eyes met, and in that split second, all the pain, the loneliness, and the sliver of hope hit me like a physical blow. I knew right then, I wasn’t leaving without him.

Fast forward six hours: Meet Leo, our new family member.

He’s not shaking anymore. He’s currently passed out on the softest bed he’s likely ever known, belly-up, snoring louder than a freight train. The sound is music to my ears.

We didn’t save Leo; he saved us from missing out on this incredible journey of healing.