The silence in the house was oppressive, the kind that weighed down on everyone inside. It wasn’t peaceful—it was heavy, suffocating, as if the air itself was filled with despair. Outside, storm clouds loomed, and the wind scraped against the windows like unseen fingers. In the distance, a dog barked, but inside, there was only stillness.
Then, there was Max—a tiny golden retriever puppy, just ten weeks old. He didn’t bark or move. He simply stood at the edge of the room, his head tilted slightly, his eyes filled with an unusual wisdom for such a young creature. Without hesitation, he padded across the floor toward the crib.