LolaBelle

Thomas wasn’t looking to adopt. He wasn’t even searching for a dog. He was only stopping by Riverside Animal Shelter to drop off donated supplies before heading home. But then he met Hank. Hank was a three-year-old mixed breed who had spent seven months waiting for someone to choose him. Many people had walked past him, and every time someone left, his heart broke a little more. Thomas sat with him for just a few minutes. He scratched his ears, gave him some love, and then stood up to leave. That’s when Hank reached out and grabbed his sleeve. He wasn’t trying to stop him with force. He was just scared of losing another person. His paws held onto Thomas’s arm as he quietly shook, begging without making a sound. Thomas stopped. He looked down at Hank… then sat back on the floor. The moment he did, Hank climbed into his lap, relaxed, and pressed his face into his shoulder. That was the moment Thomas knew. He called his landlord, arranged everything, and before the shelter closed that day, Hank finally had a home. Sometimes we don’t choose the dog… sometimes the dog finds us.

This was filmed at Animal Shelter in Springfield, Illinois on a Tuesday afternoon. The man is Glen, 50 years old. A high school shop teacher from the north side of Springfield. He came to Animal Shelter on his lunch break because his daughter had been asking him for months to at least go and look. He told himself he was just browsing. Just getting it out of the way so he could honestly tell her he had tried. Glen spent about twenty minutes in one of the meet rooms with a three-year-old brown mixed breed named Hector. Hector had been at Animal Shelter for seven months. He had been returned to the shelter twice. The notes in his file said he was too attached. Followed people too closely. Didn't do well with being lett alone. Glen sat on the floor with Hector. Let the dog climb into his lap. Scratched his ears. It was pleasant. Normal. The kind of interaction Glen figured would happen. Then Glen stood up to leave. Hector went straight up with him. Not barking. Not jumping in the usual sense. He climbed. Both front legs wrapped around Glen's midsection. Face pressed hard into Glen's chest. Completely quiet. Just holding on. Glen stumbled back a half step. Looked down. Hector looked up at him. The shelter hallway went completely quiet. The staff member near the door told us she stopped moving. Glen tried to lower Hector gently. Hector pressed in harder. Glen stood there for a long moment. Then something in him changed. His shoulders dropped. He sat back down on the floor with Hector still attached to him, both of them landing together. Glen held the dog for a long time without saying anything. Eventually he looked up at the staff member and said: "What do I need to fill out?" He adopted Hector that afternoon. Glen's daughter called the shelter two days later, laughing and crying at the same time. She said her dad, who had said for years he wasn't a dog person, was now sleeping on the couch with Hector on his chest because he didn't want to wake him up by moving. The shelter coordinator told us: "Hector gets called too attached in every return note. But Glen didn't see a problem. He saw a dog who needed someone to stay. And he stayed.