One day, I was relaxing at home when I heard loud gunfire. I rushed outside just in time to see my neighbors taking Duke’s mom away on the back of their truck.
After that, Duke spent almost every day at our house. I asked my neighbors what his name was, but they only told me they called him “Dog.” A couple of months later, they stopped feeding Duke, so I started giving him food because I didn’t want him to go hungry.
When they were getting ready to move, I asked if I could take Duke since it was clear they didn’t care about him. The son said yes, but the next day Duke was gone, and so were they.
I tried to contact the son to ask if he decided to take Duke with him, but he became defensive and blamed me, even threatening me. I explained I didn’t have Duke, but he called me a liar and hung up.
Determined to find him, I posted Missing Pet signs at local vet offices within a 25-mile radius.
Five months later, I got a call from the UPS driver in our neighborhood. He said he saw a dog that looked like Duke in a field, and he didn’t look well. I thanked him, drove to the spot, and found Duke—skinny and scared. But when he saw me and heard my voice, he perked up and ran straight into my arms.
Now, Duke is healthy and happy, and he has three other dogs and three cats to play with. We’re a family now. ❤️
