






When Lala first arrived at her new home with Thuy, everything felt strange. The walls looked different, the smells were unfamiliar, and there were no soft pawsteps of her old friends. Lala, a little golden puppy with big eyes full of curiosity, had just been adopted by a kind young woman named Thuy. But even kindness couldn’t immediately chase away the nervousness Lala felt in this brand-new world.
Thuy understood that change could be hard for a small pup. So she gave Lala plenty of space, gentle smiles, and a warm, fluffy bed of her own. “Don’t worry, Lala,” Thuy would say softly. “You’re safe here. This is your forever home.”
The first few days were quiet. Lala spent most of her time under the couch or curled up in the corner, watching Thuy from a distance. Thuy never forced her to do anything. She left bowls of food and water nearby, and she’d sit on the floor reading a book or humming to herself, allowing Lala to get used to her presence.
Then, something small happened that began to change everything—Thuy brought out a squeaky toy shaped like a duck. She gently squeaked it once, then placed it on the floor a few feet from Lala. Curious despite herself, Lala crawled closer, then gave the toy a gentle nudge with her nose.
SQUEAK!
She jumped back—but then wagged her tail. That sound was funny! She pounced again, and this time, her tail wagged harder. Thuy laughed happily, and for the first time, Lala didn’t feel scared. That night, Lala didn’t hide under the couch. She curled up beside Thuy’s bed, feeling just a little more at home.
Over the next week, little victories added up. Lala began to follow Thuy from room to room, her paws tapping gently on the wooden floor. She started to eat right beside Thuy, her tail wagging every time the food bowl clinked. And when Thuy knelt down and opened her arms, Lala came running—straight into a warm cuddle.







But it wasn’t just the toys or food. Thuy made each day an adventure. One sunny morning, she took Lala to the park for the first time. The moment they stepped onto the grass, Lala’s nose twitched with excitement. So many smells! So many birds and butterflies! Thuy kept her on a gentle leash, and together they explored the grassy paths.
At first, other dogs made Lala nervous. A big poodle came bounding over, barking playfully, and Lala darted behind Thuy’s legs. But Thuy crouched down, petting Lala gently. “It’s okay, sweet girl. Let’s take it slow.” They watched the other dogs from a distance, and each time they visited, Lala grew a little braver.
One rainy afternoon, something even more surprising happened. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and Lala whimpered, hiding under the table. Sensing her fear, Thuy brought her a blanket and sat nearby, telling her stories in a soothing voice. She even turned on gentle music to drown out the thunder. “You’re not alone anymore, Lala,” she whispered. “You’ve got me.”








It was in those quiet, stormy moments that Lala’s heart began to truly trust.
Soon, routines became part of her comfort. Every morning, Thuy would stretch and smile, saying, “Good morning, sunshine,” before Lala jumped onto the bed to give her sloppy puppy kisses. They’d eat breakfast together—Thuy with her oatmeal, Lala with her kibble—and then go for a morning walk.
Lala learned commands too. “Sit,” “stay,” “paw,” and even “spin!”—each one earning her a small treat and an excited cheer from Thuy. Lala loved making her human happy. Every time she did something right, Thuy would clap and hug her. “You’re so smart, Lala!”
But what Lala loved most was cuddling. In the evenings, after dinner and playtime, they would curl up on the couch. Thuy would wrap a soft blanket around them, and Lala would lay her head on Thuy’s lap, her little body rising and falling with calm breaths. Sometimes Thuy would stroke her fur and say, “I’m so lucky to have you.”






One day, Lala did something extra brave. While on a walk, a loud motorcycle zoomed by. Normally, she would freeze or tug at the leash to run away. But this time, she stood still, looked up at Thuy, and waited for a gentle “Good girl.” Thuy’s proud smile lit up the whole street.
Bit by bit, Lala began to understand that her new life wasn’t something to fear—it was something to love.
She found favorite places around the house: the sunny spot near the balcony, the soft rug in Thuy’s art room, and the little nook under the desk where she liked to nap while Thuy worked. She even made new friends—like the neighbor’s cat, Mimi, who at first hissed but eventually curled up beside Lala on lazy afternoons.
Sometimes, Lala would dream. In those dreams, she would see her old life—a shelter, cold floors, barking dogs, the uncertain looks on people’s faces. But then, she’d wake up and feel Thuy’s hand gently scratching behind her ears. That’s when she knew: this wasn’t a dream. This was her new reality.
Weeks turned into months, and Lala wasn’t just surviving—she was thriving. Her fur looked shinier, her eyes sparkled with joy, and her body bounced with energy. She had found her rhythm, her family, her best friend.
Thuy often spoke to her as if she understood every word, and in many ways, she did.
“Lala,” Thuy said one day as they watched the sunset from their balcony, “we’ve come so far, haven’t we? You were so scared at first… but now look at you. You’re brave, happy, and oh so loved.”
Lala gave a little bark, wagged her tail, and licked Thuy’s hand. Yes, she thought. She had come far.
This was her home. This was her heart’s place.
And slowly but surely, Lala had grown into the life she was always meant to have—with Thuy, by her side. Always.
The End.