11/04/2025
I remember the day the rescue saved me from a life of solitary in a crate, their hope to give me the life they know I deserve. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve heard the same words: “We’ll give you a chance, King. This time will be different.”
But it never is.
I’m a German Shepherd. We’re supposed to be noble, right? Loyal guardians, protectors, the kind of dog that stands by your side through anything. And I am all those things—I know I am. But somehow, people only see what came before. They don’t see *me*.
The family who promised they’d work with me? Gone after three weeks. The man who swore he understood shepherds? Returned me when I barked at a stranger approaching his fence—doing exactly what my instincts told me to do, what generations of my ancestors were bred to do. I was deemed “reactive” by them, not “protective.” Not “alert.” Just another word that makes me sound broken.
But here’s what they forgot to say: I learned every single command they taught. Sit, stay, heel—I mastered them all in days. I figured out their routines, adapted to their schedules, tried so hard to be what they needed. I waited for them every time they left. Every single time, I believed they’d come back.
At night, I rest my head on my paws and think about what my forever home might look like. Not perfect—I don’t need perfect. Just real. Just someone who sees past the labels and the broken promises others made about me. Someone who understands that loyalty isn’t something you find on a shelf, already polished and pristine. Sometimes it comes a little scarred, a little cautious, but twice as strong for having survived.
I still have a wagging tail. I still learn new tricks from the trainers, my ears perked forward, eager to please. Because that’s who I am underneath it all—a shepherd who still believes in his flock, even though the flock keeps changing.
My person is out there somewhere. I have to believe that. Someone who won’t see my past as a prophecy, but as proof of my resilience. Someone who’ll understand that the strongest bonds aren’t formed in perfect conditions, but forged through patience, understanding, and second chances.
Or third chances. Or however many it takes.
I’m still here. Still loyal. Still brave. Still waiting.
And I’ll wait as long as it takes.
Because when my person finally comes, when they kneel down and look into my eyes and see me—really see me—they’ll discover what everyone else missed: a heart that never gave up, a spirit that never broke, and a devotion that never wavered.
I’m King. And I’m still believing in my kingdom to come.
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Long Island, NY
A Home Fur Now Rescue
