The tiny veterinary office felt like it was collapsing under the weight of grief. The fluorescent lights buzzed like a cruel melody, shining down on a reality soaked in sorrow. On the table lay Leo, the proud shepherd who once ran through snowy fields, guarded tents under starry skies, and curled up beside campfires on long autumn nights. Now, he was frail, trembling, his breaths rattling like a fading song.
Beside him sat Artyom, his lifelong friend, hunched, broken, hand stroking every curve of Leo’s ear as though trying to etch it into memory. “You were my light, Leo,” he whispered. “You stood by me when no one else did. You licked my tears when I couldn’t cry. Forgive me… for letting it come to this.”
And then — Leo, weak but full of love, lifted his head, pressed his nose into Artyom’s palm, and with the last of his strength, wrapped his paws around his master’s neck. The vet and nurse in the corner wiped away tears; they had seen many farewells, but never one so raw, so human.
The vet approached with a syringe in hand. “When you’re ready…” she whispered. The end was seconds away.
But then she froze. The stethoscope against Leo’s chest told a different story. “Wait… this isn’t heart failure. This isn’t organ collapse. It’s infection. He’s burning with fever — forty degrees. He’s not dying… he’s fighting!”
The room shifted in an instant. “IV, antibiotics, now!” she ordered. Artyom’s heart raced. Could hope really return so suddenly?
Hours passed in torment as Artyom sat in the corridor, haunted by every sound behind the door. Midnight came. Then the vet emerged, exhausted but burning with determination. “He’s stable. The fever is dropping. But the next hours are critical.”
Two hours later, the door opened again. This time, she smiled. “Come in. He’s waiting for you.”
Artyom entered, trembling. There, on a clean blanket, hooked up to fluids but very much alive, lay Leo. His eyes were clear, warm, alive. When he saw his master, his tail thumped against the table — once, twice — saying what words never could: “I stayed. I fought. I’m still yours.”
Artyom dropped to his knees, tears streaming freely now. “You didn’t want to go… you wanted me to fight with you.” Leo, weak but determined, lifted his paw and placed it on Artyom’s hand.
It wasn’t a farewell anymore.
It was a promise.
A promise to fight. A promise to love. A promise to stay.