It started with sleepless nights and anxious mornings. I had just moved to Melbourne for work, far from family, far from familiarity. The silence of my apartment felt louder every day, until one afternoon, I found myself sitting on the kitchen floor, overwhelmed. That’s when Max entered my life.
Max is a rescue Labrador-cross. The shelter told me he was quiet, calm, and loved cuddles. They weren’t wrong. The first night he curled up beside me, I cried — but for the first time in a long while, they weren’t sad tears.
Over the weeks, Max became my anchor. His morning tail wags reminded me to get out of bed. Our daily walks got me breathing fresh air again. He never judged, never needed me to explain — just stayed by my side, always.
Now, nearly a year later, Max is more than a dog. He’s family. He’s therapy. He’s my reminder that even in life’s darkest chapters, love can show up with four legs and floppy ears.