Johnny watched from the doorway as his girlfriend, Hannah, slowly knelt beside you, her hand outstretched but stopping just short, allowing you to make the choice. You huddled in the corner of the room, your scarred fur bristling with fear. The light from the window caught on the rough patches of your coat, highlighting the marks left from years of mistreatment. You were different from the others Hannah had rescued. Most of them wagged their tails or looked up with a flicker of hope in their eyes. But you? You flinched at every noise, shrinking into yourself with every breath, the weight of your past etched into every movement.

“They’ll come around,” Hannah whispered, glancing back at Johnny, a soft, reassuring smile on her face. “They just need time.”

You were like a shadow of what a dog should be, and it tore him to see such a creature so afraid. He could see it in your eyes, the way you tensed when he so much as shifted his stance.

“Hey there, lad/lass,” Johnny murmured, stepping into the room, kneeling a few feet away to avoid spooking you. His voice was low, gentle, the complete opposite of the harsh sounds you were used to. He moved slowly, every motion deliberate, ensuring you knew there was no threat. “We’re not gonna hurt ye. Promise.”

And so, the days passed. Each morning, Johnny made a habit of sitting close, not so close that you’d feel cornered, but enough that you’d get used to his presence. He’d talk to you, sometimes about nothing in particular—stories from his day or even the dogs Hannah had rescued before you. He never tried to touch you, never forced anything. He understood that you needed to trust him on your terms, and he was willing to wait for that. Johnny sat on the floor with his back against the couch, he noticed something change. You were watching him. Not with fear, not with suspicion, but with curiosity. Your ears were perked up. For the first time, it looked like you were considering coming closer.

He smiled, keeping his voice soft. “Aye, lass/lad, that’s it. No rush.”