Homeless Man Asked Me to Take His Dog – A Month Later, I Received a Mysterious Letter

A year after my husband Jason died, I was struggling to hold life together for my 8-year-old son, Liam. One ordinary afternoon at the grocery store, a homeless man approached us with a small, trembling dog. “Her name’s Daisy,” he said, “I can’t take care of her. Would you?”

I hesitated—our life was fragile, our hearts still raw—but Liam’s pleading eyes made my decision for me. “All right,” I whispered. “We’ll take her.”

Over the next month, Daisy became part of our small family. Liam fed her, brushed her fur, read bedtime stories. Joy returned to our home through her wagging tail and gentle presence.

Then, one cold evening, we found a plain envelope among the mail. Inside was a letter from Daisy’s former owner: gratitude, regret, and love poured into every word. Liam’s eyes lit up. “Mom, we have to find him,” he insisted.

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