What began as a happy outing to adopt a family pet turned into a night I’ll never forget. My 8-year-old son, Andy, had pleaded for a dog for months. My wife eventually agreed though with strict conditions and we brought home a scruffy shelter mutt Andy named Daisy. From the start, Andy and Daisy were inseparable, even though my wife clearly had doubts. That first night, Daisy was restless pacing, whining, unable to settle. I chalked it up to nerves. But by morning, both Daisy and Andy were gone.
Panic took hold. Andy’s bedroom window was wide open, and terrifying thoughts flooded my mind. Hours later, Daisy returned muddy, exhausted, and alone which only added to our confusion and dread. Then, just after sunrise, a neighbor called to say she’d seen a boy near the woods. We rushed there, and I found Andy curled up under a tree, clinging to Daisy. His first words pierced me: “I thought you ran away because of me.” His attachment to Daisy had led him out into the darkness.
