By joieshaeffer Moi was the kind of dog who always knew when it was time for a walk. His wagging tail would thump eagerly against the door, and his big brown eyes would light up at the sight of the leash. To him, every walk was an adventure, a new chapter in the story he shared with his owner, Sarah. For years, they’d explored the quiet streets of their small town, the parks filled with trees, and the winding trails by the river. Moi never strayed far, always returning to Sarah’s side when she called.
But one rainy evening, everything changed.
The storm had come quickly, unexpected. The wind howled through the trees, rattling the windows of Sarah’s little house. Moi, who had never been afraid of the weather, seemed unsettled. He paced by the door, whimpering softly. Sarah knew he needed his walk, even if the rain hadn’t let up. So, against her better judgment, she grabbed her raincoat and they ventured out into the storm.
The streets were almost empty, the usual quiet neighborhood now filled with the rush of wind and rain. Moi tugged at his leash, eager to chase the scents that were being swept up in the storm. Sarah struggled to keep up, but her footing was unsteady on the slick pavement. In a split second, Moi saw something—a rabbit, maybe, darting into the woods. Before Sarah could tighten her grip, the leash slipped from her hand, and Moi bolted.
“Moi!” she screamed, her voice lost in the wind. She chased after him, but the rain blurred her vision, and her heart pounded as fear took over. The woods were dark and thick, and as she ran deeper, the branches clawed at her arms. But Moi was nowhere to be seen. He had vanished into the storm.
Hours passed. Sarah called for him until her voice was hoarse, her tears mixing with the rain. She searched every corner of the woods, retraced her steps, and checked all the familiar places where Moi might have gone. But the night wore on, and there was no sign of him. Exhausted and soaked through, she had no choice but to return home, her heart heavy with dread.
Days turned into weeks. Sarah put up posters around town, visited shelters, and asked everyone she knew to keep an eye out for her beloved dog. She walked the same paths they used to take, hoping that maybe—just maybe—Moi would be waiting for her at the end of one. But he never was.
The house felt unbearably empty without him. His bed in the corner of the living room remained untouched, his favorite toy gathering dust on the floor. Every time Sarah opened the door, she half-expected to see him bounding towards her, tail wagging, as if he had only been gone for a little while. But the days continued to pass, and the absence of Moi became a hollow ache that nothing could fill.
One quiet morning, Sarah decided to take a walk by the river—one of the last places they had been together before that fateful night. As she walked along the familiar trail, she could almost hear the echo of Moi’s paws splashing through the water, his playful barks as he chased after birds.
She stopped at a bend in the path, where the river flowed more gently, and sat down on a bench. For the first time in weeks, she let herself cry. The loss was too great, too painful to carry alone. And yet, in that moment, she felt a strange sense of peace. Moi had been more than just a dog—he had been her constant companion, her protector, her friend. She knew, deep down, that wherever he was, he had loved her just as fiercely as she had loved him.
As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the water, Sarah stood up and whispered one last goodbye to the wind.
And though Moi never returned, he was never truly gone. In her heart, he was always there—every walk, every quiet moment, every memory.