10/31/2025
I had just completed the adoption paperwork for a magnificent brindle Great Dane named Zeus, but as the volunteer attached his leash to lead him out, he froze. It was genuinely confusing; most dogs practically sprint out of the kennel area, yet Zeus stood his ground, his enormous paws planted firmly on the cool cement floor. I hesitated, wondering if I should urge him forward, but then I followed his gaze and realized the true hesitation was not his.
Peeking out from the farthest corner of his old run was a tiny, trembling black and white Boston Terrier named Hades. Hades watched our departure with wide, anxious eyes. He was Zeus’s kennel mate, and it immediately became clear that the large dog was resisting leaving because he was about to lose his only anchor and protector. In that moment of stalled departure, a profound tenderness filled the air.
My partner, who was watching this whole silent drama unfold, nudged me. She hadn't expected to adopt two dogs, but she immediately understood the deep, quiet bond between the gentle giant and the anxious small dog. We exchanged a look, and the choice was easy: we couldn't sever that friendship. We went back inside, quickly finished the paperwork for Hades, and soon, all four of us—two humans and two dogs, one huge and one small—walked out into the sunshine together.
Once the dogs were settled side-by-side in the back seat, already leaning into each other for comfort, I couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with joy. I knew that Zeus and Hades had just been given the gift of a forever home, and an unbreakable brotherhood. But most of all, my deepest gratitude went out to my partner for recognizing and honoring a connection too beautiful and essential to break.
Credit: June O'Connor