The World I Used to See

My name? I don’t really know anymore. Once, I think it was Rusty. Or maybe Max. There was a time someone called me that, with love in their voice, a hand on my head, and a home behind them.

Back then, I could see everything — the trees that danced in the wind, the kids who laughed while throwing a ball, the birds who teased me from the sky. I used to run across the yard, my tongue lolling, heart full, legs strong. There was always someone waiting at the porch, arms wide, smile brighter than the sun.

But things changed.

They always do, don’t they?

One day, the car ride didn’t end at the park or the vet. It ended on the side of a quiet road. The door opened. I jumped out, thinking it was time for an adventure. The door closed behind me. The engine started.

I chased after the car.

I ran until my paws bled and my lungs burned.

They never came back.

Alone in the Dark

Being abandoned is a different kind of pain. It’s not just hunger or cold. It’s confusion. It’s the sound of tires in the distance, every one of them making you think maybe it’s them — until it’s not. It’s realizing the warm bed you once had is now the hard sidewalk. It’s learning how to sleep with one eye open and your heart broken.

Then, the world went dark.

At first, it was blurry — like trying to look through water. Then, everything faded. I bumped into things, got lost in places I thought I knew. The shadows won. My world collapsed into sounds and smells.

And still, no one came.

People saw me, I think. I heard their footsteps quicken, their whispers:
“Poor thing.”
“He’s blind, look at him.”
“Don’t touch it — it might bite.”

I never bit. Not once.

I only wanted love.

The Coldest Nights

Winter came early that year. The ground was frozen. The wind bit into my bones. I curled up in corners, behind dumpsters, under porches. I tried to be invisible, hoping no one would yell or throw things.

But sometimes… kindness appeared.

There was a lady who left out scraps. A boy who once gave me his sandwich and patted my head before his dad yelled at him. And then… there was the porch.

A small wooden porch with warm wood and the faint smell of food. I found it by accident, stumbling through the dark. I lay there one night, too tired to go on.

The door opened.

She didn’t scream. She didn’t run.

She sat beside me.

And said, “You poor old soul… what happened to you?”

A New Routine

She called me “Sweetie.” I liked that.

Every evening, I’d find my way back to her side door. She left it open a crack. I’d nudge it, step in carefully, guided by her scent and the rhythm of her voice.

Inside, it was warm. She placed a blanket near the heater. There was always food, always water. Sometimes, she’d play soft music and sit nearby, reading. I would listen to her heartbeat, and for a few hours, I wasn’t alone.

But I never stayed. I didn’t want to be a burden.

I left before the sun came up — every time.

Old habits die hard, especially when you’ve been taught that love doesn’t last.

The Storm

That night, the wind howled like a pack of wolves. Rain slammed against the windows. The world outside was chaos — branches snapping, trash cans flying, thunder crashing like war drums.

I had found shelter beneath a rotting deck, curled into a ball, soaked and shaking. I could barely hear anything over the storm, but then… I heard it.

Her voice. Calling.

“Sweetie! Sweetie, where are you?”

She was out in the storm… looking for me.

I followed her voice.

Each step felt like a mile, but I reached her. She knelt down and pulled me into her arms. I was soaked. Muddy. Shivering. Blind.

But to her, I was precious.

She brought me inside, dried me off, fed me, and tucked me into the blanket. I slept so deeply that night, I didn’t notice when she went to bed.

But when I woke up… I did something different.

The Morning Surprise

The house was quiet. I wandered slowly, feeling my way around. Her scent was in every corner. I followed it, step by cautious step, until I found her room. Her breathing was soft, peaceful.

Without a sound, I climbed onto the bed.

For the first time in years, I felt safe enough to stay.

When she woke at 5 a.m., her hand brushed against me. I heard her gasp softly, then whisper, “Oh… you stayed.”

I meowed.

Wait — no. That’s Sam’s story. I’m not a cat. But maybe, in some other house, another blind creature found love too.

For me, the moment was just as magical.

She didn’t push me away.

She didn’t yell.

She pulled me closer, wrapped her arms around me, and cried.

Not out of fear.

But because she cared.

 A Love Without Sight

People think dogs need eyes to love.

They don’t understand.

We see with our hearts. With your voice, your smell, your warmth. We don’t need to see your face to know you love us. We don’t need to chase a ball or run a mile to feel joy. We just need to be near you.

And yet… many like me are forgotten.

Shelters fill with old dogs, blind dogs, scarred dogs — and no one wants them. Puppies get adopted. Pretty ones. Healthy ones. The rest of us?

We wait.

And wait.

Until sometimes… we don’t wake up at all.

But What If…

What if someone gave us a chance?

What if you saw us not for what we lack — but for what we still offer?

Loyalty. Patience. Quiet companionship. A heart that loves without limits.

I don’t need perfect vision to know when you’re sad.

I don’t need to see the door to hear when you come home.

I don’t need to run through fields to feel joy just lying beside you.

A Letter to You

To the one reading this…

Please don’t scroll past us.

We may be blind.

Or old.

Or missing a leg.

But we remember everything.

We remember the ones who fed us.

The ones who gave us a name.

The ones who stopped and said, “You matter.”

I know I’m blind.

But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel pain when ignored.

Or joy when someone stops to care.

I’m still me.

Still Rusty.

Still waiting for someone to love me for who I am.

A Home at Last

Today, I lie on a new bed. It smells like lavender. My blanket is soft. I can’t see the room, but I can hear her humming in the kitchen. There’s chicken in the oven.

My tail thumps softly.

She walks over and kneels beside me.

“You’re safe now, sweet boy.”

I nuzzle her hand.

Because finally, someone saw me.

Not my blindness.

Not my scars.

Just… me.

And that’s all I ever wanted.