A Rescue Dog Came Home with Us — The Next Night, My 8-Year-Old Son Disappeared

What began as a simple trip to adopt a dog turned into a night filled with panic and hard truths. My son, Andy, had been begging for a dog for months, and finally, my wife Kelly agreed—but only if it was a small, “presentable” dog. At the shelter, Andy immediately gravitated toward the scruffiest dog there, a messy mutt named Daisy. Despite my wife’s reluctance, we brought her home.

That night, Daisy was restless, whining as she paced. Kelly reluctantly went to calm her down. Later, around 3 a.m., I woke to find Andy missing. His bed was empty, the window cracked open, and Daisy was also gone. Panic set in. Kelly looked guilty when I told her, but we had no answers.

After hours of searching, we got a call from a neighbor who had seen Andy near the woods. We found him curled under a tree, shivering, with Daisy by his side. They had formed a bond none of us had expected. But when we returned home, Kelly revealed the truth—she had let Daisy out, hoping Andy would just get over it. She hadn’t realized he would go after her, putting himself in danger.

I was angry, but as I watched my son and Daisy together, I realized something important: family isn’t about perfection. It’s about accepting the messy moments and finding forgiveness. Daisy was staying, and we would all have to adjust.