One day, stuck in traffic, I heard my phone ring. It was a quiet voice on the other end introducing himself as Andy. He told me he was a few cars behind us and had noticed Sherman’s big head hanging out the window, along with the decal on the car with Sherman’s name and my number.

Andy went on to explain that he had recently returned home after months of recovery from multiple back surgeries. Because of his health, he had to give up his beloved dog, a loss that had left a deep void in his life. His voice cracked as he asked if, someday, he could just meet Sherman and give him a pat.

Without a second thought, I told him, “Of course.” But as we sat there, something about the sadness in Andy’s voice lingered with me. I couldn’t shake the feeling that he needed more than just a distant meeting someday. So, we called him back.

“Would you want to meet right now?” I asked. After a long pause, Andy’s voice trembled through the phone, “Yes.”

We agreed to meet at a nearby parking lot. When we pulled up, Andy was waiting, his cane in hand. Slowly, he made his way toward us, the weight of his pain evident in every step. The moment Andy sat down next to the car, Sherman, always attuned to the hearts of people, walked right over. Without hesitation, Sherman pressed into Andy, his big, soft body offering warmth and comfort. Andy bent down, and for the first time in months, he was able to hug, kiss, and pour out his grief into the neck of a dog who had never forgotten the power of love.

Tears welled up in all of our eyes. Andy whispered softly into Sherman’s ear, “You’re a good boy, Sherman.” In that quiet, sacred moment, all the pain of loss seemed to melt away, replaced by a bond that transcended words.

There are times when a small act of kindness—like a simple meeting between a man and a dog—can heal wounds that go far deeper than we might ever know. It was a reminder that love and connection can change lives in the most unexpected ways.