It all started with a joke.
The day I bought her, she was tiny – about the size of my forearm, with big ears and clumsy paws. I went to the pet shop to buy a few things, and for fun I put her in the trolley to take a picture. She seemed to enjoy it, she sat proudly like a little queen. I posted the picture online with the silly caption ‘She already owns me’. Everyone thought it was adorable.
I thought it was just a one-time thing.
But after that, every time we went back to that shop after that, she couldn’t go in by herself. She would stop at the entrance and look at me with the words, ‘You know what to do.’
She grew fast – very fast.
Now she’s huge and barely fits in the trolley. People stare, the workers laugh, but I still push her in it. It’s become our tradition – me and my huge dog riding on her zebra print blanket like she’s the boss.
But today was different.
We were standing in the middle of the aisle with our leashes when she suddenly stood up in the cart. She froze in place with her ears perked up and her eyes fixed on something.
I turned round to look.
And then I saw him – an older man at the end of the aisle who froze in place looking at her.
Then he said something quietly. Just one word.
Her old name.
A name I’d never told anyone.
My heart dropped. I looked at her – she was tense, her tail twitching on the cart. Her reaction spoke for itself: she remembered him.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said, trying to remain calm. The man looked surprised, as if he didn’t think I’d noticed. He paused, then slowly approached. Up close, he looked haggard – grey hair under an old cap, deep wrinkles on his face. His hands trembled slightly as he held them out, but he didn’t touch her.
‘You… you don’t…’ – He began, but stopped. ‘Is it Polumna?’
My stomach clenched. That was the name that had been on her tag at the orphanage, before I’d renamed her Daisy. It seemed happier, more fitting. But no one else was supposed to know that name.
‘How do you know her?’ I asked, holding tightly to the trolley. Daisy – or Luna – scooted closer to me. Their connection was clearly not a simple one.
He let out a long sigh and rubbed his face. ‘She was mine,’ he said quietly. ‘Until I had to give her up.’
For a moment, all I heard was the hum of the lights upstairs and the sounds of people shopping in the distance. Thoughts swirled around in my head. What kind of person would give up a dog like Daisy? How could someone let go of such a loyal friend?
‘I’m sorry,’ I said finally. ‘I don’t mean to be rude, but why did you give her away?’
He flinched, and I could see the guilt on his face. ‘I didn’t mean to,’ he said quietly. “I got very sick last year. The medical bills were too much, and I couldn’t take care of her the way she deserved. I tried to find someone to give her a good home, and…well, I guess that turned out to be you.”
His voice broke a little at the end. I felt sorry for him. Losing a pet because you have no choice must be heartbreaking. And yet some part of me felt protective. She was his past, but she was also my present and future.
Daisy seemed to understand my feelings. She whimpered softly and leaned closer to me. The man’s face softened. ‘She’s always done that,’ he said with a faint smile. “Whenever she needed love or comfort. I’ve never known another dog like her.”
He clearly cared for her. I wondered what kind of life they had together. Was she happy then? Does she still remember it to this day?
Before I could ask the question, he stood up and shook his head. “I didn’t expect to see her here today. Maybe I should leave you two alone.”
‘No,’ I said suddenly before I could stop myself. He and Daisy looked at me in surprise. ‘Wait,’ I said more gently. ‘If you want, can we talk for a bit?’
We ended up sitting on a bench outside the shop next to the car park. Daisy somehow fit on our laps, even though she was huge. The man told me his name was Walter and told me that he had raised her since she was eight weeks old. They were always together until he became too ill to care for her.
‘She was my best friend,’ he said, gently stroking her fur. “When my wife passed away five years ago, she helped me through it. But then…well, you know the rest.”
I nodded, beginning to understand the whole story. Maybe that was why Daisy didn’t like coming into the shop – maybe it reminded her of saying goodbye to Walter. Or maybe she was just remembering being here with him, back in better times.
Watching them get back together, even if only briefly, was both gratifying and a little sad. Walter’s face lit up every time Daisy touched his arm or laid her head on his leg. And Daisy seemed calm and happy just being near him again.
‘So,’ I finally asked, breaking the silence, ‘what happens now?’
Walter paused, looking at me and Daisy. ‘I guess that’s up to you,’ he answered honestly. “I’ve missed her every day since she left. But I know I can’t take care of her the way you can. If she’s happy with you…”
‘She is happy,’ I said quickly. “She’s amazing. Smart, funny, very stubborn, but perfect.”
He smiled slightly. ‘Yeah, that sounds like her.’
When we said goodbye, we agreed to keep in touch. Walter said he would visit her if Daisy didn’t mind – judging by the way she wagged her tail when he left, I think she would. I also decided to bring her to the shop more often – not because it’s fun, but because it clearly means something to her.
That evening, looking through old photos of Daisy in the trolleys, I realised: life brings the right people and pets together at the right time. Sometimes it happens for a long time, sometimes for a moment, but it always leaves a mark.
After that day, Daisy no longer resisted entering the shop. In fact, she went in with pride – just as long as I was with her. And every now and then Walter would join us, and then everything would seem complete, as we had not planned.
In the end, it wasn’t about who owned her. It was about love, trust and understanding that letting go doesn’t mean stopping caring. Sometimes it means trusting that someone else will continue the love you started.
Here’s what Daisy and her huge heart taught me: Family isn’t always about blood or forever. It’s about those who show up, stick around, and remind us that love is timeless and changeable.
If this story touched you, feel free to share it – and maybe give your furry friend a hug today.
