11/29/2025
While shopping at Walmart, I noticed a woman quietly trailing me and Juno, my ten-year-old German Shepherd in his service vest. It didn’t feel threatening, just deeply sad.
In the parking lot, she finally approached, her voice trembling. “I’m sorry… is his name Juno?”
My guard went up instantly. “How do you know that?”
Right there by the shopping carts, she began to cry. “I was his puppy raiser. I had him from eight weeks to eighteen months before sending him off for guide dog training nine years ago. I’ve thought about him every single day.”
She showed me puppy photos on her phone, tearfully explaining that he had "failed" guide dog training for being too friendly. "I always wondered where he ended up." She looked at his vest. "What does he do now?"
“Diabetic alert,” I told her. “He’s saved my life sixteen times.”
She covered her mouth, sobbing. “That makes sense. Even as a puppy, he naturally sensed when something was wrong. He just knew.”
We talked for twenty minutes, sharing stories only someone who truly loved him would know. Before leaving, she knelt down. Juno walked right over, wagging his tail, and rested his head on her shoulder as if no time had passed.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “For letting me see that he’s exactly where he was meant to be.”
I send her a photo of Juno every week now. And yes, he still sleeps on his back with his legs in the air.
To everyone who has ever fostered or raised a dog they couldn’t keep—know this: they never forget you. You live in their hearts forever.