A quiet companionship story about silence, patience, and the gentle language of waiting.
An excerpt from a longer story on Medium — where the night lingers, and Luna, Omi, and every quiet breath return in full.
I thought I knew dogs. Then I met Luna, Omi, and Bobby.
The street was quiet that night, the kind of silence that hums in your ears. From my attic apartment, I’d grown used to the distant barks of Luna, the wolf guard dog, and Omi, the gnewen retriever who had never quite taken to me. Their energy was formidable, yet strangely comforting. Bobby, the third of the trio, was always calm, the gentle presence that kept them all in check.
I returned later than usual. As I nudged the gate open, two shadows streaked past me. Luna and Omi had bolted into the night.
“Oh no,” I muttered. The owner appeared in pyjamas, flashlight in hand. Calm, disappointed, patient. “Close the gate,” he said. Then he added, softly, “I’ll go get them.”
We waited. I offered him a beer; he declined. I drank both. Bobby leaned into me, a steady pulse of warmth against the chill of uncertainty. I tried to glimpse the others in the dark. I saw a gnewen retriever chewing a pork knuckle on the steps. Could it be Omi? No. Just a stranger, lone and absorbed.
Hours—or maybe minutes—passed. I pulled out my sketchbook, letting pencil meet paper as the night wrapped around us like a quiet song. The soft rustle of leaves, the distant hum of cars, the subtle weight of Bobby against my legs: this was the music of waiting.
And then, suddenly, Luna and Omi appeared. A blur of fur, tongues lolling, tails wagging, racing back into the small circle of light around us. The gate stayed ajar that night. They returned home as if nothing had happened, yet everything had shifted.
It wasn’t the chase or the worry that lingered. It was the stillness, the shared presence, the heartbeat of connection between human and dog. Playful, untamed, loyal, patient—a language newer than words, spoken in fur, breath, and quiet companionship.
Time felt gentle that night. We simply waited. And in waiting, we remembered that some bonds are felt more than spoken, and some nights, ordinary streets and wagging tails can feel like the most extraordinary places in the world.
Have you ever waited for something — or someone — in quiet companionship?
If you enjoyed this quiet companionship story, you might also like Tuzla and Beyond: A Memoir of Endurance and Quiet Freedom.
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