Max was a strong, grey pitbull with a heart bigger than his muscular frame. He had once been a joyful pup, rescued as a stray and adopted by a young boy named Liam. Together, they explored the world — parks, trails, backyards filled with laughter. Max would wait by the window every day at 3 PM, tail wagging, ears perked, ready for Liam’s return from school.But as the years passed, Liam grew older, and life changed. New friends, school, part-time jobs — and Max was slowly forgotten. The walks became rare. The cuddles faded. Max, once vibrant and full of life, now spent his days lying by the cold back door, hoping for a touch, a glance, a word.Then one cold winter evening, Max heard the sound he used to love: the leash being picked up. His old bones ached, but his tail wagged like it did years ago. Maybe things were going back to how they were.But the walk didn’t lead to the park.It led to the shelter.Liam, now a teenager, couldn’t care for Max anymore. “He’s old, he needs more than I can give,” he whispered, avoiding Max’s eyes as he handed the leash to the staff.Max didn’t bark. He didn’t whine. He just sat, staring at the door long after Liam had left, as if hoping he’d come back.He never did.Max spent his final days in a cold kennel, confused, heartbroken, and waiting. Still loyal. Still hoping.And when his time came, the shelter worker held his paw and whispered, “You were a good boy, Max.”He closed his eyes peacefully, still dreaming of the boy who once loved him — and the park they never visited again.