I barely had the strength to move, but he kept nudging, pressing his warm body against my legs, wagging his tail gently. It was like he was pleading with me to hold on. Slowly, almost reluctantly, I reached out and ran my fingers through his fur. He licked my face and let out a soft whine. I don’t know why, but that tiny gesture was enough to crack the wall I had built around myself.

Max didn't leave my side for a second that day. He followed me room to room, lying quietly by my feet, occasionally bumping my hand to remind me he was still there. It was like he was saying, “I’m here. You’re not alone.”

Over the next few weeks, Max became my lifeline. Every morning, he would wake me with a wagging tail, bringing me his favorite toy, demanding a walk, or insisting on playtime. He gave me a reason to get up, a reason to keep moving forward. Even on my darkest days, he wouldn’t let me sink too far. His loyalty, his unconditional love, and his need for me pulled me back from the edge.

Months later, when the storm had passed, and I could finally smile again, I knew that Max had saved my life. Not with some grand, heroic gesture, but with the quiet, persistent presence of a friend who never gave up on me.