I didn’t go looking for a dog that day. I went looking for air.
It was a Tuesday morning — grey, windy, the kind that makes you want to stay under the doona. I’d been feeling like that too. Worn down. Anxious. Like life had too many tabs open in my brain.
I was walking along Bar Beach in Newcastle, trying to clear the fog in my head after a third panic attack that week. Not from any dramatic crisis — just that quiet kind of sadness that creeps in and sits heavy on your chest.
That’s when I saw her.
A scruffy Kelpie mix, maybe four years old, sand-coloured with ribs showing, one ear half-flopped and eyes too tired for her age. She limped slightly, like she’d been walking a long time with nowhere to go. Her fur was matted. No collar. Just drifting along the tide line, like she didn’t belong anywhere.
🎨 Was this story a reminder of your own furry friend?
At Pawstralian, we turn real pet stories into timeless portraits — joyful, silly, loyal, unforgettable.
Whether it’s a memory you never want to forget, or a face that makes you smile every day...
👉 Explore our custom pet portraits and see how your story could look as art.
🐶 View Portrait Styles →I crouched down without thinking.
She came right over.
No hesitation. No barking. Just this fragile, shaking little dog resting her head on my knee like she’d found what she was looking for.
That was the first time in months I didn’t feel anxious.
The First Few Weeks
I took her to the vet. No chip. No name. Just signs of hunger, dehydration, and exhaustion. The vet guessed she’d been living rough for weeks, maybe more.
I named her Sandy. For her colour. For where we met. And maybe because she felt like something the tide had carried in just for me.
She was timid at first — didn’t play, didn’t bark, didn’t even wag her tail much. But she followed me everywhere. Kitchen. Couch. Bathroom. Bedroom. Like if she lost sight of me, she’d be lost again.
And gradually, she came back to life.
She started sneaking onto the couch. Claiming one of my shoes as her favourite toy. She’d fall asleep curled against my leg like it was the safest place on earth.
And slowly, I came back to life too.
The quiet companionship turned into comfort. The morning beach walks became ritual. That weight I’d been carrying? It started to lift.
I hadn’t even realised how alone I’d felt until I wasn’t anymore.
One Year Later
It’s been a year now.
Sandy still hates the vacuum. Still panics during thunderstorms. But she also chases seagulls like she owns the beach and nudges my arm for pats every night when I’m scrolling my phone too long.
She’s still a bit of a mess. So am I. But somehow, together, we work.
And me? I haven’t had a single panic attack since she came into my life.
We walk Bar Beach every morning. She races ahead, turns around, and looks at me like she’s daring me to keep up. Every time she does, I smile. Because somehow, I always am.
Sandy didn’t just rescue me from a rough morning. She walked me out of a dark season of my life.
I gave her a home.
She gave me back a version of myself I thought I’d lost.