“The Kind of Love That Never Betrays”

There’s a special kind of love that doesn’t ask for explanations, doesn’t keep score, and doesn’t hurt you just because it can. The kind of love you find in animals.

I’ve always loved animals — maybe because they give the kind of loyalty people rarely do. They don’t care if you’ve had a bad day, if you’re messy, if you’re quiet or loud or strange. They don’t judge. They just… show up. Every day.

Dogs are the perfect example. There’s a reason they’re called man’s best friend. A dog will love you when you’re at your best, but more importantly, they’ll love you when you’re at your worst. They’ll wait for you by the door, tails wagging like you’re the most important thing in the world. They’ll curl up next to you when you’re sad, sensing it before you even say a word.

I once had a dog like that. My best friend. My shadow. My protector. They didn’t just keep me company — they kept me alive in ways I couldn’t explain to anyone else. And then, one day, they were gone. The loss was like someone had taken a piece of my chest and buried it in the ground. But my grandparents told me to forget it. It’s just a dog, they said. Like the love we shared wasn’t real. Like the grief wasn’t valid.

But it was real. It still is.

And maybe that’s why, lately, I’ve been thinking about getting a cat. I picture their little paws, the way they’d blink slowly at me from across the room — that feline version of “I trust you.” But then I think about the responsibility. What if I can’t give them the life they deserve? What if they become another thing I fail? It doesn’t help that I see so many stray cats around. Wandering alleyways. Sleeping under cars. Curling up on cold concrete. Their lives are full of uncertainty, and it’s not fair. We — the humans — decide what happens to them, yet so often, we choose to look away.

There’s a passage from The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry that always comes back to me. When the fox says to the prince: “You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed.” That’s the truth about loving an animal — once they love you, you owe them the world. And if you can’t give them the world, the kindest thing you can do is not take them at all.

Animals can’t save every human. But I believe they save the ones they can. They stand beside us when we’re lonely. They make us laugh when the world feels heavy. They keep our secrets, guard our hearts, and never — not once — betray the trust we give them.

People say love like that doesn’t exist.
But it does.
It just usually has four legs and a heartbeat.