People often talk about dogs saving lives in dramatic ways—like pulling someone out of a burning building or barking to warn about danger. My dog, Lola, saved my life too, but in a way no one would ever write a headline about.
When I turned 65, my life seemed to unravel all at once. I lost my job, and to make matters worse, my husband of 30 years left me for someone half my age. My children, who I thought would support me, blamed me for the breakdown of everything, telling me I’d let myself go over the years. I was alone—completely alone—surrounded by the silence of my own failure, unable to even recognize the person I had become.
One freezing night, as I walked outside to the driveway, I heard a soft whimper under my car. At first, I thought it was just the wind. But then, I saw it—a tiny puppy curled up against the tire, shivering from the cold, trying desperately to stay warm. She was so small, barely a few months old, and she looked at me with these big, trusting eyes. I wasn’t planning on adopting a dog—I could barely care for myself, let alone a puppy. But something in her gaze held me there, rooted in the moment. I couldn’t just leave her out in the cold.
I brought her inside and named her Lola, after my late mother, who had always been the rock in my life—the one who taught me strength in the face of adversity. And somehow, this little furball became my rock too.
Lola wasn’t just a dog. She became my companion, my source of comfort, and my reason to keep going. There were days when I couldn’t bring myself to get out of bed, when the weight of the world felt too heavy to bear. But Lola wouldn’t let me stay down. She’d nudge me with her little nose, her eyes full of gentle encouragement, until I finally pulled myself together and rose to my feet.
When I cried—whether it was the pain of a broken heart or the grief of lost years—Lola would climb into my lap, her soft little paw resting on my arm as if to say, “I’m here.” She didn’t need to say anything. Her presence alone was enough to remind me that I wasn’t as alone as I felt.
Lola didn’t care that I wasn’t perfect. She didn’t care that I was still trying to figure out how to rebuild my life. All she cared about was that I was there with her. That simple love, unfiltered and unconditional, was the healing I didn’t know I needed.
She didn’t save my life in the way people expect—there was no dramatic rescue or heroic act. But every single day, in the quiet moments, she saved me. She saved me from the loneliness, the sadness, and the despair that had threatened to swallow me whole. With her by my side, I found the strength to keep going, even when I thought I couldn’t.
Lola didn’t just save my life that cold winter night. She continues to save me, every day. ❤️🐾