Almost five years have passed since that day. I’m now in college, but I still can’t forget that moment. And finally, I found the strength to tell you what happened back then.
It was a normal day. After school, my little sister and I were walking home together as usual. We live on the top floor of a high-rise, so naturally, we took the elevator. At that moment, we were chatting, laughing, sharing impressions of the day — everything was as usual.
A few seconds later, a man, about thirty-five years old, entered the elevator with a large light-colored dog. My sister and I love dogs — and when we saw the labrador, we were happy. She even smiled and wanted to reach out to him, but then everything suddenly changed.
The dog suddenly froze, staring straight at my sister. Then, as if sensing something, it stepped closer, stood on its hind legs, and put its heavy, fluffy paws right on my sister’s chest. She screamed sharply, almost crying from fear, and I stood frozen. We both thought the dog would bite.
The labrador began barking — loudly, sharply, anxiously. The man immediately pulled the leash, crouched beside the dog, started petting it, and said everything was okay.
“Kids, don’t be afraid, the dog doesn’t bite.”
But I screamed through tears:
“Sir, if the dog isn’t dangerous, why did it attack my sister like that?! Look, she’s trembling! I’m going to tell our parents!”
“I… I have to explain. This is not just a dog. It’s trained to detect cancer.”
We didn’t understand at first.
“If it smells a tumor on a person, it gives a signal. It jumps, barks… That’s its job. I work at a clinic, we go through check-ups together. I… I think you should tell your parents. And definitely go to a doctor. Just to be safe.”
The rest I remember like in a fog. Our parents didn’t believe it at first, but for peace of mind, they took my sister to the hospital.
And the diagnosis was confirmed. She had cancer.
After that, the hardest period of our lives began. Diagnosis, exams, treatment. Hospitals became our second home. She fought, and we all fought with her. We went through a lot.
But unfortunately, not everything ends well. Sometimes even the brightest hopes fade too soon.
Now I study and live on. But every time I see an elevator, a dog, or just the smell of a hospital — my heart tightens.
And I know one thing for sure: what happened then gave us some time. Time to say how much we loved her. Time to be together.
And if it hadn’t been for that dog… we might never have known.
