Lost My Dog, Lost My Mind—Then He Came Back

So, last week my roommate left the front door open and my dog, Max, bolted. Cue instant panic. I spent days plastering flyers, checking shelters, and basically not sleeping. To make things worse, my uncle passed away from covid the next day. Double gut punch. I was a mess—crying, doomscrolling, eating cereal for dinner. Last night, I finally crashed, convinced I’d lost both my dog and my sanity. At 4:30 am, I woke up to something wet and cold nudging my hand. It was Max, tail wagging like he’d just come back from a spa day. I legit thought I was hallucinating. Turns out, a neighbor found him and brought him home. I ugly-cried again, but this time out of relief. Pets really do know when you need them most—even if they’re the reason you need therapy in the first place. #PetStories #LostAndFound #EmotionalRollercoaster #Pets #Cats