**Miza, the Dog No One Wanted**
Miza sat quietly at the edge of the room, his soft brown eyes following his owner’s every move. He didn’t understand the whispered conversations or the tense silence that had fallen over the house lately. All he knew was that something felt wrong. His owner, David, hadn’t been himself since the new woman came into their lives.
Miza tried to like her, wagging his tail and sitting patiently at her feet the way he always did with David. But she never smiled back. She never reached out to scratch behind his ears or give him a treat. In fact, she didn’t seem to like him at all.
“I told you, David,” her voice cut through the quiet house one evening. “I can’t live with that dog. He’s too big, too messy… and frankly, I don’t trust his breed. It’s either him or me.”
Miza’s ears perked up at the sound of his name, but the words that followed made his heart sink. He tilted his head, his soft eyes wide with confusion.
David sat silently for a long time, rubbing his temples as if the weight of the decision was crushing him. And then, as if the words took all his strength to say, he mumbled, “I’ll take him to the shelter tomorrow.”
Miza’s heart shattered. He didn’t understand every word, but he understood enough. He was going away—not to the park, not to the vet. Away from home. Away from David.
That night, Miza lay beside the door, his favorite spot where he had always waited for David to come home after work. But now, the house felt cold and unfamiliar. His tail, once lively, lay still against the floor. He whimpered softly, his cries carrying the kind of sadness only a dog can feel—a sadness without words, but so heavy it weighed down every beat of his heart.
David sat across the room, avoiding Miza’s gaze. “I’m sorry, buddy,” he whispered. “She says it’s for the best.”
Miza didn’t understand how it could be. All he had ever done was love David—waiting by the door every day, greeting him with a wagging tail and endless devotion. He had been by David’s side through every good day and every bad one, and now, just because the new woman didn’t like him, he was being cast away.
The next morning, David stood by the door, holding Miza’s leash. “Come on, boy,” he said softly, as if trying to pretend this was just a normal outing. But his voice was heavy with guilt.
Miza’s paws felt heavy as he followed, dragging with each step. They didn’t go to the park. They didn’t go for a walk. They drove to a building with bright lights and loud noises—the animal shelter.
David knelt beside Miza one last time, placing a hand on his head. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, tears brimming in his eyes. “I wish things were different.”
Miza pressed his nose into David’s hand, whimpering softly. His heart begged to understand—why wasn’t he good enough anymore? What had he done wrong?
The shelter worker approached, smiling gently. “We’ll take good care of him,” she said.
But Miza knew no one could care for him the way he cared for David. As the leash changed hands, he let out a soft, mournful cry—a cry that seemed to say, *Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me.*
David gave him one last look, his eyes full of regret. “Goodbye, Miza.” Then he turned and walked away, the door closing behind him with a finality that crushed Miza’s spirit.
Miza sat by the door of the shelter, his heart breaking with every step David took away from him. He didn’t care about the new bed they offered or the treats they tried to give him. All he wanted was David.
And as the day wore on, Miza cried softly, his head resting on his paws. He cried for the life he had lost, for the home he no longer had, and for the love he had given so freely, only to be thrown away.
But even in the depths of his sorrow, Miza’s heart held a flicker of hope—hope that, one day, someone would walk through that door, see him, and choose to love him. Not for his breed, not for how he looked, but simply for the dog that he was.
Because even dogs like Miza, with their broken hearts and stories of abandonment, still have hope. And maybe, just maybe, his second chance was still out there, waiting.
