The Lost Dog and Found Trust​

Our dog Max ran away when I was ten. I searched the neighborhood for hours, crying so hard I could barely see. When I came home, defeated, my brother was waiting with a flashlight and a bag of Max’s favorite treats. “We’ll find him,” he said, and for the first time that day, I believed it. We walked the streets until midnight, calling Max’s name. Just when I was about to give up, my brother spotted him hiding under a bush. As I hugged Max, my brother ruffled my hair and said, “Told you.” That night, I learned that brotherhood means never letting you lose hope—not even when everything feels lost.​

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