A heartbreaking story comes from Southern California, where a tiny gray-and-white dog was spotted lying in a school parking lot next to the school’s shrubs.
She was waiting for her family who abandoned her to come back, refusing to leave that very spot, and hiding from anyone who wanted to help her.
Weeks went by, but no one claimed this dog, nor did anyone come back for her. She was all alone in this world, still not realizing that her previous owners are no longer her family…
Little Doggo Girl Was Inclined To Wait For Her Hoomans To Come Back
Despite the fact that no one came back for her for fifteen days, this little dog girl refused to budge from the parking lot shrubs. She was inclined to wait for as much as she needed to for her family to come back.
Many people tried to help her, sharing her photos online in hopes of finding her family, but no one ever claimed her. And, even when someone would try to approach her directly, she’d always hide, until one day, a woman named Suzette Hall came by.
Suzette Made Sure The Dog Got A Fresh Start
source: @logans_legacy29She drove her to Camino Pet Hospital, in Irvine, California, for a checkup. Scarlet got all the care she needed, and got cleared up for a new foster home. Soon after she was picked up by Suzette, this little dog got a foster family with a bunch of other siblings to play with.Little Scarlet Is Seeking A Furever Home
Source: The Dodo Even though she’s now happy in a new foster home, Scarlet’s still seeking for her furever family. This lovable dog is easy-going, affectionate, and she pretty much gets along with everyone she meets.Adapting to a new family is definitely not going to be a problem for Scarlet, as she’s naturally a sweet doggo with great social skills!Suzette has one condition for the future family who decides to adopt Scarlet, though – it has to be someone who will never, ever leave her again!Scarlet being abandoned once again under some tree is simply inadmissible, and Suzette hopes she will finally learn what true love looks like. We wish for little Scarlet to find her pawfect home as soon as possible!Every Night, My Late Grandpa Spoke to Me in a Dream: ‘Check the Red Box In My Basement!’ – One Day, I Finally Did
When my grandpa passed away, I thought the hardest part would be moving on. I never expected him to start visiting me in my dreams with the same strange message every night. I didn’t want to believe it meant anything — until the day I finally gave in and went to the basement.
I don’t know if you’ve ever felt truly stuck — like you’re running in place while the world around you keeps moving. That’s my life in a nutshell. I’m 22, and I work as a cashier at a run-down grocery store. It’s the kind of job where you smile and nod while people barely make eye contact, praying your register doesn’t freeze up again.
A young male cashier | Source: Midjourney
The pay is terrible, and by the time I cover rent and utilities for my tiny apartment, there’s barely enough left for groceries.
Life wasn’t always like this, though. I grew up in my grandpa’s house — a cozy place with creaky floors and walls full of old family photos. He raised me and my older brother, Tyler, after our parents died in a car accident.
Grandpa did his best to give us a good life and taught me everything I know about working hard and being decent.
But Tyler? He couldn’t have been more different. Immediately we turned 18, we found out our parents had left us a small inheritance. It wasn’t a fortune, but it could’ve made life a little easier.
Close up of two young adult men | Source: Midjourney
Tyler didn’t care about sharing. He drained the account, borrowed money from Grandpa, and vanished without a word.
I haven’t seen him since.
Grandpa and I didn’t talk about Tyler much after that. It hurt too much. We focused on getting by, fixing things around the house, and spending weekends fishing at the lake. Those were the good days.
Grandpa and grandson fishing | Source: Midjourney
After Grandpa passed, I thought the hardest part was over. I thought the silence in the house, the empty chair at the table, and the quiet hum of memories would be the worst. But I was wrong.
It had happened all so fast. Just two weeks ago, I walked into the house after my shift, groceries in hand, and found him on the floor. His favorite sweater was soaked in spilled tea, and the crossword puzzle he’d been working on was half-finished on the coffee table.
I remember dropping the bags, screaming his name, and shaking him like he could wake up if I just tried hard enough.
A heart attack, the doctors said. Quick and unexpected. Nothing anyone could’ve done.
Doctor delivering bad news to a patient about losing a loved one | Source: Midjourney
At the funeral, I kept waiting for Tyler to show up. Not because I wanted him there but because it felt wrong for him not to be. But, as always, my brother didn’t care enough to show his face. Just me, a scattering of neighbors, and a casket I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to.
That’s when the dreams started.
It wasn’t weird at first. Of course, I’d dream about Grandpa — he was the only family I had left. In the dreams, we were back at the lake, sitting on that old wooden dock with our fishing rods, just like we used to.
Grandpa was the same as ever: his baseball cap tilted back, his sleeves rolled up, smiling like he didn’t have a care in the world.
A young man sleeping | Source: Midjourney
“Caught anything yet?” I asked him in one dream, watching my line float lazily in the water.
“Nah,” he said, grinning. “You’re scaring the fish with all that talking.”
I laughed, and for a moment, everything felt normal. But then, his face grew serious, and he leaned in close.
“Listen to me, kiddo,” he said. “Check the red box in my basement.”
The first time it happened, I woke up and shrugged it off. Grief does strange things to people. But the dreams didn’t stop. Every night, the same scene. The same words.
A young man seated in his bed at night | Source: Midjourney
“Check the red box in my basement.”
After a week, I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Fine, Grandpa,” I muttered one morning, standing at the top of the basement stairs. “Let’s see what all this is about.”
The air down there was heavy, like the weight of a thousand memories. And then I saw it — a splash of red peeking out from beneath a pile of old newspapers.
My heart started pounding. Could this really mean something?
The red box was exactly where Grandpa said it would be, sitting beneath a dusty stack of newspapers. For a second, I just stared at it, unsure if I was more relieved or freaked out.
Young man staring at a large red box in the basement | Source: Midjourney
“Well, Grandpa,” I muttered, wiping my palms on my jeans, “let’s see what was so important.”
The lid creaked as I opened it, and I couldn’t help but laugh. Inside was nothing but fishing gear — spools of line, a box of rusty hooks, and a set of lures. There was even the old reel Grandpa used to call his “lucky charm,” though I don’t think it ever actually caught anything.
I picked it up, turning it over in my hands. “Is this what all the fuss was about?” I chuckled. “You really got me worked up for a tackle box?”
Shaking my head, I set the reel back inside and closed the lid. Maybe the dreams were just my brain’s way of clinging to him. Maybe it was all nonsense.
Young man opening a large old red box in the basement | Source: Midjourney
As I turned to leave, my foot clipped the edge of a nearby box.
“Crap!” I hissed as the whole stack wobbled dangerously before collapsing in a chaotic crash. Dust filled the air, and I coughed, waving it away. “Seriously? Perfect.”
But as I bent down to start picking up the mess, something caught my eye — a metal door embedded in the wall behind where the boxes had been.
A safe.
An old safe with a large circular dial | Source: Midjourney
I froze, my heart hammering in my chest. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
It looked ancient, the kind with a big circular dial and no obvious keyhole. I crouched down, running my fingers over the cold metal.
“What’s the combination?” I muttered to myself, my mind racing.
I tried a few combinations, starting with Grandpa’s birthday. Nothing. Then I tried Tyler’s, just to see. Still nothing.
“Come on,” I muttered, wiping sweat from my forehead. Then, almost on instinct, I tried my own birthday.
Click.
Young man opening an ancient safe | Source: Midjourney
The sound echoed in the quiet basement, and I froze. Slowly, I pulled the door open, revealing neat stacks of cash — so much that I could hardly believe my eyes. Fifty thousand dollars, at least.
My hands shook as I reached in and pulled out a note tucked beneath one of the stacks. It was Grandpa’s handwriting, shaky but familiar.
“For my boy — everything I couldn’t give you in life. Use it to build something good, and don’t let the world beat you down. Love, Grandpa.”
Tears blurred my vision as I sat back, clutching the note. He’d left it for me. After everything, he’d left me the inheritance he must’ve saved bit by bit over the years.
Thousands of US dollar notes inside an ancient safe | Source: Midjourney
“Thanks, Grandpa,” I whispered. My voice cracked, but for the first time in weeks, I felt something close to hope.
The money changed everything.
I didn’t blow it on luxury or take the easy way out. Grandpa’s note kept playing in my mind: “Build something good.” And so, I did.
Six months later, the doors to Peter’s Coffee opened, a cozy little shop tucked on the corner of Main Street.
The walls were lined with fishing memorabilia — a framed picture of Grandpa and me at the lake, his lucky reel mounted above the counter, and even the old red box, now polished and displayed by the register.
A cozy, inviting coffee shop | Source: Midjourney
People loved it. Maybe it was the smell of fresh coffee or the warm, homey vibe. Maybe it was because it was personal. I made sure to tell every customer about the man behind the name, the one who gave me everything when he had so little.
I thought about Tyler, too. I tried calling him, left messages on the only number I had, and even sent an email. But, just like before, there was no answer. Part of me wanted to be angry, but another part just hoped he was okay.
Young man smiling in his cozy coffee shop | Source: Midjourney
One evening, as the shop closed for the night, I lingered behind the counter, wiping down tables. The fishing reel above the door caught the light, and I smiled.
“See, Grandpa?” I said softly, looking around the shop. “I did it.”
I swear I felt a warm breeze sweep through the room, even though the doors were shut.
And in my mind, I heard his voice, as clear as ever:
“You did good, kiddo. You did real good.”
A young man standing in his cozy coffee shop at night | Source: Midjourney
Curious about another family mystery? You’ll love this next one: At My Grandfather’s Funeral, a Stranger Handed Me a Note – When I Read It, I Laughed Because Grandpa Had Tricked Us. What did he leave behind?
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
Leave a Reply