11/02/2025
My son Eli is ten — but he’s got the gentlest heart I’ve ever known. He thanks the bus driver every morning, waves at the garbage collectors, and even carries beetles across the sidewalk so no one steps on them.
A few weeks ago, I noticed the peanut butter disappearing faster than usual. The bread too. I figured it was just a growth spurt — boys his age eat like there’s no tomorrow. But his lunchbox always came home spotless. Not a crumb left. Every single day.
Then one afternoon, on my way home, I saw Eli take the long route behind the old hardware store. He stopped, knelt down, and unwrapped his sandwich. From under a rusted dumpster, a skinny little dog crawled out — ribs showing, tail wagging like crazy.
Eli smiled and whispered, “Hey, buddy. I saved you some.” Then he tore the sandwich in half and poured water into the plastic wrapper. “Don’t forget to hydrate,” he said — like he was talking to an old friend.
My heart nearly burst.
That night, I packed him an extra sandwich and a small jar of peanut butter with honey — for his new four-legged friend.
Feeding that stray — “Buddy,” as Eli called him — became their quiet ritual. Every day after school, same time, same corner.
People started talking. Kids teased him, calling him “Dog Boy.” But Eli never cared. His kindness was stronger than their laughter.
Then one afternoon, I decided to wait for him. He was sitting with Buddy when a shiny red SUV pulled up and stopped.
A man in a gray suit jumped out, eyes wide, moving fast toward them.
I was about to call out — but then he dropped to his knees and said, voice trembling:
“I can’t believe this… Are you Eli?…” ⬇️ (full story in the comm)💬👇😳
