People think rock bottom is losing your job or your home—but for me, it was going two weeks without hearing my own name. Only my dog, Bixby, reminded me I mattered. We lived through eviction, cold nights, and being turned away from shelters. But he stayed. Always.

One day, someone threw us a sausage biscuit from a car. I split it in half. Bixby pushed his piece back to me with his nose. That broke me.

I never begged. I just held a sign so people could understand. Then last week, a woman in scrubs stopped and said five words: “We’ve been looking for you.” She showed a photo. A social worker had taken it weeks ago. They had a room—dog-friendly.

It didn’t seem real.

But five days later, we had our own warm room. Bixby got a bath. I got clean clothes. A phone call to my sister. Yesterday, Jen offered me a job. I said yes—not just for me, but for Bixby.

Lesson:
Sometimes, it’s not the cold or hunger that breaks you—it’s feeling invisible. But even the smallest kindness can crack that silence. If someone stays by your side when the world turns away—don’t let go.