It all began out of boredom.
I was standing by the window, staring blankly at the heavy snow piling up outside. The parking lot below was covered in thick white, with only a few spots cleared by cars that had recently driven away. And then… something moved.
At first, I thought it was just the snow shifting. But as I focused, zooming my gaze into the empty space, I saw it clearly—a small dog. Shivering. Struggling. Barely clinging to life in the bitter cold.
His frail body trembled nonstop. He was helpless, alone, and for reasons I couldn’t understand, he wasn’t hiding under another car for shelter. Then I realized: he couldn’t stand up. Whether from injury, exhaustion, or the freezing air, he was locked in place.
One thing was certain—he needed help. Immediately.
A Desperate Rescue
I rushed downstairs. The closer I got, the clearer his condition became. His tiny frame was soaked through, covered in snow. He looked pitiful, on the edge of collapse. Without thinking twice, I scooped him up and carried him into the nearest hallway. There, I found a towel and began drying his fragile body.
But he was so stiff. His limbs barely moved. His eyes were blank, filled with despair. He didn’t even have the strength to bark.
After some time, the warmth of the hallway helped, but it wasn’t enough. I brought him home. Gently, I placed him near the floor heating. For the first time, he stopped shivering. His breathing steadied. His body, once locked in cold, began to loosen.
I picked him up to examine him. His fur was filthy, tangled with dirt and ice. Who knew how long he had been wandering? I set him down again, but he trembled in the unfamiliar environment. Only after hours of rest did his body begin to recover.
That evening, I decided to bathe him. He looked at me with wide, fearful eyes, and then… he cried. Whether from pain, exhaustion, or the sudden gentleness, I couldn’t tell. Gradually, as I washed him, his eyelids drooped. Sleep overtook him.
When I dried him with a hairdryer, his small, fluffy appearance finally showed through. For the first time, I could see the puppy hidden beneath all that suffering. And he was adorable.
The First Steps of Care
I had never raised a dog before. Unsure of what to do, I reached out to friends with experience. Following their advice, I prepared glucose water for him, then placed a bowl of clean water nearby.
Slowly, his strength returned. The little one managed to struggle to his feet. He wouldn’t drink water at first, only sitting silently, eyes half-closed. I worried he might be hungry, so I prepared a bit of my own food for him.
When I returned, I was stunned—he had crawled out of the box on his own, following the smell. He circled the food nervously before finally eating with hunger so fierce, I knew he hadn’t eaten in days.
The next day, I gave him a name: Haitanghua.
From then on, each time he saw me, he would walk up and sit in front of me, staring with big blank eyes. On the third day, he even started responding when I spoke. He bobbed his head at me repeatedly, though I had no idea what he was trying to say.
Gaining Trust
I prepared food for us both—porridge for him, a simple meal for myself. He devoured his portion eagerly, wagging his tail nonstop.
When he was full, I cleaned his space. Strangely, Haitanghua understood. Instead of making a mess, he quietly hid behind the door. He was still just a puppy, not yet grown, but already so sensible.
When his body grew stronger, I took him outside. At first, he only paced back and forth, observing everything carefully. Then I realized what he was doing—he was searching for a place to relieve himself. He didn’t want to soil the house.
I couldn’t believe it. Even as a stray, he had kept himself clean.
After some time outside, I brought him back in. His eyes were dreamy, still filled with traces of caution. He didn’t like my porridge much, sometimes sneaking out of sight when I wasn’t paying attention. But whenever I returned, he crawled to my feet affectionately, pressing his tiny body against me.
Each night, after playing, he would obediently curl into his bed to sleep.
Sunshine After Snow
On the fourth day, the snow finally stopped. The city, once gray and buried, sparkled under bright sunshine. I checked on Haitanghua in the morning. He was already awake, wagging his tail as if waiting.
“Let’s go outside,” I said.
For the first time since his rescue, Haitanghua played in the snow—not as the weak, freezing pup I had first seen, but as a lively, joyful dog. He bounded, rolled, barked, tail wagging furiously. Half an hour passed in a blink.
Back home, I prepared food again. He ate heartily, watching me all the while. Then he retreated to his corner, curling up peacefully.
A Temporary Guardian
I had no experience raising dogs. Though I loved Haitanghua already, I knew he deserved someone with more time, more care, more knowledge. While caring for him, I also searched for an adopter.
Finally, I found one.
His new owner arrived a few days later—a kind person with a gentle smile. Haitanghua sniffed cautiously at first, then wagged his tail. He seemed to sense kindness.
I packed his things, stroked his head one last time, and whispered, “Be happy, Haitanghua.”
A Goodbye Filled with Hope
After he left, I returned to clean the corner where he had stayed. The apartment felt strangely empty. In just a few days, he had become part of my life.
I thought about him—how sensible he had been, never causing trouble despite his curiosity. How clean, always waiting until outside to relieve himself. How obedient, how gentle, how quickly he had trusted me.
Haitanghua was not just any dog. He was a survivor.
And now, he would have a chance to live not as a stray, but as a beloved companion.
My hope was simple: that he would grow up healthy, strong, and loved in his new home.
