The dog was small, barely larger than an adult cat. His fur was fluffy and unkempt, and when he lay in the hole he had dug for himself, he looked more like a little beaver.

Except he wasn’t building a dam, he was… digging a hole. A grave.

A shelter from the world that had taken away his right to live. His owner had abandoned him, he hadn’t eaten for days, and he hadn’t moved. He lay there, disoriented, partially buried in the ground.

On the dump, on the outskirts of the city, where no one cared that the little dog was hiding from the world.

People say dogs never lose hope. But sometimes… even a dog reaches the point where it gives up.

The girl who eventually found him was named Hajnalka. She was a volunteer with an animal protection organization.

She had known for a long time that shelters were overcrowded. The free ones were full, and the paid ones… were filled with animals that no one wanted anymore.

That morning, a friend called her:

“Have you heard about this puppy, Hajnalka? They say he’s wandering around the dump. Or actually… he’s just lying there. He won’t come to anyone. He’s lying in the dirt.”

“I know, Laci…” Hajnalka replied quietly. “But where am I supposed to take him? I already have four rescued dogs at home. The shelter is full, and so is the temporary home.”

“Are you going to leave him there to die?” asked the boy on the other end of the line. His voice wasn’t accusatory, just sad.

Half an hour later, Hajnalka parked at the edge of the dump. The wind blew dust around her feet as she walked uncertainly, forced to breathe the air that smelled of burning.

Around her, birds chirped, and occasionally rats rustled in the gaps of the plastic bags.

And then she saw him.

A small brown and black blotch. Motionless, partially buried in the ground.

“Is that you?” she asked softly, kneeling down. “Is that you, my… little treasure?”

The dog didn’t move. He didn’t look up. He didn’t run away, didn’t growl. He simply lay there.

It took a few days before she managed to gain the dog’s trust. She returned every day. She brought water, sausage, cans of dog food. At first, she placed the food at the edge of the hole, watching from a distance.

The dog didn’t eat anything on the first day, nor on the second. On the third day, he glanced at the food, and on the fourth day, he took it.

On the fifth day, when Hajnalka approached, the dog didn’t move.

“You’re a good boy,” she said softly to him. “I know it hurts. I know you don’t trust us humans. But I won’t leave you here.”

When she finally lifted him in her arms, Hajnalka was terrified.

“Oh God…” she whispered. “You’re as light as a dove…”

The dog was emaciated, skin and bones. His fur was matted, and the smell was unbearable. It wasn’t clear if it was a male or female. He didn’t move. He simply endured being picked up by the girl.

“I’m going to give you a name…” Hajnalka thought aloud. “You’ll be… Pysiek.”

The dog didn’t react.

“Over time. Right? Over time, you’ll trust me again.”

At the clinic, the doctor just shook his head.

“Hajnalka, he… this animal hasn’t eaten properly for weeks. Look at his fur. His skin is full of scabs. No wonder every movement causes him pain.”

“Can we put him to sleep so you can prepare him for surgery?”

“Yes, but first… I need to examine him. It might be too late.”

Hajnalka petted the dog’s head as the doctor administered the sedative.

“Sleep peacefully, Pysiek… You came from hell, but now something new begins. I promise you.”

When the fur was removed, Pysiek finally became visible. A small, about five-year-old dog. Emaciated, but alive. The doctor shook his head again.

“We need to remove twelve teeth.”

“How many will remain?”

“Eleven. But they’re in bad shape.”

“Let’s do it,” Hajnalka nodded. “Let’s do everything. As long as there’s hope, we’ll fight.”

After the teeth were removed, came the injections. The dog’s skin was inflamed with allergic reactions.

He was given antibiotics, painkillers, and vitamins. Of course, he would also undergo neutering, as is common with every rescued dog.

Pysiek still didn’t bark. He didn’t play. He just watched.

But he no longer wanted to sink into the ground. He wasn’t waiting for death anymore.

Instead, he watched Hajnalka’s movements.

And that already meant something.