A life behind bars

For twelve long years, he had woken up every morning in the cold of cell B-17.
At first, he had tried to fight: writing letters, requesting lawyers, begging them to believe in his innocence. But no one listened. Little by little, he stopped resisting. He accepted the silence, the walls, and the fate that awaited him.

The only force keeping him alive came from his dog: a German Shepherd he’d found some time ago, a shivering puppy at the end of an alley. She had become his family, his companion, the only being he trusted. He had no one left in the world but her.

The unusual request

When the prison director came with the document to collect his last wishes, the guards expected the usual responses: a meal, a cigarette, perhaps a prayer.
But the man replied softly:

—I want to see my dog. One last time.

At first, the staff thought it was a trick. But the request was granted. On the appointed day, before his execution, he was led to the prison yard.

The reunion

They brought in the German Shepherd on a leash.
For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.
Then, seeing her owner, the dog suddenly broke free and ran toward him.

With a leap, she knocked him down, throwing herself into his arms as if she wanted to reclaim in an instant those twelve years of separation.
He fell to the ground, but for the first time in a long time, he felt neither the weight of the chains nor the cold of the stone. He felt warmth.

Tears held back for too long

He hugged her tightly, burying his face in her thick fur.
The tears, held back for so long, finally flowed freely, without shame.

He screamed, broken, while the dog whimpered softly, close to him, also aware that time was slipping away from them.

“You’re my girl… my loyal companion…” he murmured, his trembling hands stroking her back endlessly. “What will you do without me?”

She looked at him with eyes full of boundless loyalty. And he added, his voice breaking:

—Forgive me… for leaving you alone. I didn’t know how to show the truth… But with you, at least, I was never forgotten.

Even the guards looked away

Around him, the guards stood motionless. Some turned away, unable to bear the scene.
Not even the most hardened could remain indifferent.
Before them, he was no longer a prisoner, but a man clinging to the only thing he had left in the world.

With a trembling voice, she looked up at the director:

—Take care of her…

She promised not to resist, asking only that her dog be given a home.

The final goodbye

The silence in the yard grew thick, almost unbearable.
Suddenly, the dog barked, a brief cry that echoed like a protest against what was about to happen.

The man hugged her one last time, as tightly as a final goodbye can be.