I Thought We Rescued a Stray Dog. I Didn’t Realize She Was Quietly Rescuing Us (3 of 3)

We had hard years. Emre spent months out of work. I battled postpartum depression in silence. Some days, it felt like the seams of our little life were splitting apart.

But Luna was always there.

Even on nights when we had nothing but soup for dinner, she’d still get the last bite. Not out of pity—but because she was family. The quiet center of it all.

Last week was her eleventh birthday. Leyla baked her a peanut butter cake and made a glittery crown from cardboard. We watched Luna—now graying, slower, but still glowing—lick frosting from our daughter’s fingers.

And then I started to cry.

“What’s wrong?” Emre asked.

“I thought we saved her,” I said. “But I think… she’s been saving us. Every single day.”

Because what we brought home that night wasn’t just a stray retriever.

We brought home patience. Forgiveness. A kind of unwavering love that doesn’t make noise, but never leaves the room.

Luna didn’t just stay with us.

She held us together.