That morning the sun was especially beautiful. The light drifted across the garden, where the rescued dogs stretched out on the grass, rolling around with a simple and pure joy. Hercules was beside me, his head resting on my leg, breathing calmly and warmly. His grayish fur had grown back strong and thick. The scar on his paw was still there, but it didn’t hurt anymore. Just like me.The wooden sign at the entrance had been replaced with a new one, with an engraved phrase:
“The house of lives that were not abandoned.”
Every weekend, people brought abandoned dogs here. Some had been beaten, others chained up for years, others thrown out onto the street, just like Hercules. They arrived with fear in their eyes… and left with their tails held high.
I no longer suffered from depression. I still missed Claudia, but the pain was no longer an abyss. It had become strength. I knew that if she were alive, she would be proud of me.
And what about Laura and Esteban?
I knew they were constantly moving. Debts. Arguments. No place lasted them long. Not because I did anything to them—I didn’t need to. When someone is capable of abandoning a defenseless life without batting an eye, sooner or later they end up pushing themselves toward loneliness.
