Here is the story of a lucky dog from Ecuador that now has a home in Sweden.
If you have any to post, I need links to happy ending stories like this, as life has been somewhat difficult lately.
Here’s one that starts out horribly, but has a “restores faith in human kindness” ending.
In a nutshell, severely disabled pensioner gets mugged. Local girl hears of this and sets up donation page hoping to raise £500 to help him out. Donations flood in to tune of well over £250,000.
Pensioner and local girl meet for first time:
… and Baker. Hope your own tribulations are short-lived.
A couple sites you might like:
As you wish.
This is not my story. This one was told to me by a young lady with whom I worked.
Call her Sally. Sally got her cat Harry when she was still in college, working on her degree. Harry was just a kitten then, and Harry was a handful of fun, with the glorious hyperactive mad amazement possessed by all kittens, but Harry knew who his Mommy was, and when he wasn’t climbing the curtains or furiously chasing a kitty toy around, he was very, very affectionate to Sally… and Sally loved him right back.
When Sally graduated and moved, she took Harry with her, and when she bought a house, it was Harry’s house, too. He wasn’t a kitten any more, he was a strong and vital young boy cat, who still had a little kittenish playfulness at times. Sometimes, Sally would go out on dates, and she noted that Harry seemed to have a weird sixth sense about visitors – when Harry met the guy of the evening, he’d either be standoffish and distant, or he’d be a love bucket and want the guy’s attention… and weirdly enough, when Harry didn’t like the guy, by evening’s end, he’d turn out to be a nogoodnik… but when Harry liked the guy, the guy in question would turn out to be interested in more than just dipping his cookie in the milk, you know? Harry was a remarkable judge of character.
And Sally lived and pursued her career, and Harry lived the life of a boy cat. One day, she had a cat door installed in the front door for his convenience, so he could go in and out when she wasn’t home. And every day, about an hour after she came home, she’d hear the “clickelick” of the cat door. Mommy was home, so Harry had come to be fed and petted. It was a daily routine, not often broken.
And then, came the dark time.
Sally came home and found Harry lying in the street. She leaped from her car and ran to Harry. He didn’t seem to have been run over, but he was most certainly dead. And Sally grieved, bitterly. She wrapped him in an old T-shirt and wept and hugged him, and took him into the back yard and dug him a small kitty grave, and buried him there. She felt like a marker of some sort was in order, but she simply couldn’t think or act at the time; her dearest friend, her roommate, her beloved pet was dead.
And she went in and cried some more, and pretty much cried all that evening, and cried herself to sleep.
She woke up at four in the morning, and remembered, and cried some more. She realized there was no way she could manage going to work, and called in sick to work, and lay in bed, and cried off and on for quite some time.
When she finally got tired of being in bed, she dressed and went out and bought a whole bunch of ice cream. Hell with the diet. She needed some self medicating. And she sat and watched movies and daytime TV and ate ice cream off and on all day.
She had got up to go to the kitchen to get some ice cream when she heard the sound from the living room – “clickelick.”
She RAN into the living room, to find… Harry, calmly walking into the living room and hopping up on the couch. She stared at him. Harry looked up at her. “Meow?”
She carefully petted Harry, and examined him. There wasn’t a thing wrong with him. He wasn’t dirty. She petted and hugged Harry, who, while a little confused, cheerfully accepted the pets and a spoonful of Butter Pecan. And then she *ran like hell *into the back yard. The grave was undisturbed. She looked at it. Nothing had dug its way out. Plainly, there was still a dead cat in there. Who wasn’t Harry. Who just LOOKED exactly like Harry.
And so she sat down on the couch, utterly bumfuzzled, and frankly rather drained by a day of intense grief and suffering, and watched TV and petted Harry, who, knowing nothing of his mommy’s suffering, lapped all the yummy off the inside of the lid of a pint of Butter Pecan. So far as I know, they’re still together.
Sometimes, you get a happy ending, even when you least expect it.
Here’s one. Man saves hundreds of children from holocaust. Decades later he’s being honored and doesn’t realize until the end that the audience surrounding him are those, now adult, children.
Here’s an oldie from Reader’s Digest in 1971: Who Mourns for Herbie Wirth?. It makes me tear up every time.
This Man Lives Alone In A Radioactive Town To Care For The Abandoned Animals
When A Cheerleader With Down Syndrome Was Bullied These Athletes Took An Awesome Stand
A Customer Noticed His Waiter’s Smile And Tipped Him A Brand-New Set Of Teeth
After People Tried To Body-Shame This Guy Dancing At A Concert Something Amazing Happened