Best Way to Care for a Dog

I wasn’t a dog person. Not because I didn’t like them—I just never had one. I grew up in a small apartment with parents who were strict about hygiene and noise. My connection with dogs was limited to occasional pats on strays and liking dog videos on Instagram. So when I met Alina, and she introduced me to her golden retriever, Simba, I had no idea that both of them would steal my heart.

We met at a park. I was jogging, headphones in, lost in my playlist, when something fluffy and golden ran straight into my legs, almost knocking me down. I stumbled, yanked my earbuds out, and looked down to see Simba—tail wagging, tongue out, looking completely unapologetic.

“I’m so sorry!” a voice called behind him.

I looked up and saw her—Alina. Athletic wear, messy ponytail, cheeks flushed from running. She grabbed Simba’s leash and tugged gently.

“He’s overly friendly,” she said, laughing. “He thinks everyone wants to play.”

I smiled. “No harm done. He’s adorable.”

Simba sniffed me like he was trying to read my soul. Then, to everyone’s surprise, he licked my hand and sat at my feet.

Alina’s eyes widened. “He never does that to strangers.”

“Well,” I said, “maybe we’re not strangers anymore.”

And that’s how it started.

Over the next few weeks, I adjusted my jogging time just so I’d “coincidentally” run into them. Sometimes we ran together, other times we just walked and talked while Simba sniffed every flower and chased every squirrel.

I learned that Alina had raised Simba since he was a puppy. She trained him herself, fed him homemade meals, took him for vet checkups every month, and even celebrated his birthday with a tiny dog cake. Her phone gallery was filled with pictures of Simba sleeping, yawning, and making funny faces.

“He’s my baby,” she said one day, kissing his head.

At first, I was jealous. But then I realized—caring for Simba wasn’t just about the dog. It was a window into who Alina really was: nurturing, gentle, loyal.

Eventually, we started dating officially. And that meant I was now Simba’s new roommate every weekend.

But here’s the thing—I had no idea how to care for a dog.

The first time I stayed over at Alina’s, Simba stared at me all night from the corner of the bed. I think he was trying to figure out if I was a threat or just a weird new toy. The next morning, I woke up to find him curled at my feet.

“Progress,” Alina said, handing me coffee.

Over time, I learned the best way to care for a dog wasn’t about fancy toys or expensive grooming. It was about presence. Attention. Patience.

Simba loved long walks, belly rubs, and soft words. He hated loud noises, cold baths, and when Alina left for work. I started stepping in—feeding him when she was late, brushing his coat in the evening, playing fetch in the backyard until we both collapsed on the grass.

Alina watched me quietly during those moments.

“You’re good with him,” she said one evening as we watched Simba chase fireflies.

“I’m learning from the best,” I replied.

Soon, Simba became more than just her dog. He was our dog. He’d wait at the door when he heard my voice, wag his tail like crazy, and nudge me until I gave him attention.

One rainy day, Alina got a call—her mother was unwell and needed her to stay overnight in another city.

“I’m worried about Simba,” she said. “He gets anxious when I’m gone.”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll take care of him.”

That night, Simba cried at the door, refused to eat, and kept pacing the house. I sat beside him, stroked his fur, and played one of Alina’s recorded voice messages on repeat.

Eventually, he curled up beside me and fell asleep.

The next morning, Alina texted: “How’s my boy?”

I sent a picture of Simba sleeping peacefully on my lap.

She replied: “Both my boys are safe. Thank you.”

That text meant everything.

Months passed, and the three of us grew into something like a small family. We went on trips together, celebrated Simba’s birthday with cupcakes and party hats, and even got matching bandanas—yes, I wore one too.

One evening, while watching Simba nap, Alina turned to me and said, “You’ve changed.”

“Hopefully for the better?” I smiled.

“You used to be unsure around him. Now, you’re part of his world.”

I looked at Simba, then back at her.

“It’s because he showed me how to love in the simplest way.”

She leaned in and kissed me.

And just like that, I realized—caring for a dog had taught me how to care better for people too.

It wasn’t about rules or routines. It was about being there. Listening. Adapting. Giving love without expecting anything in return.

Simba gave me that love. And so did she.


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Do you have a dog that changed your life—or a relationship that grew stronger because of one? What did you learn about love from caring for a pet? Share your own story—we’d love to hear how a dog taught you the best kind of loyalty.

Note:
This story was created with the assistance of AI (ChatGPT), then manually edited for originality, accuracy, and alignment with Vocal Media’s guidelines.