The Lord is my Shepherd

They were never the enemy. That's what makes it unbearable.

The infection doesn't arrive with violence, but with trust carried in warm breaths and familiar paws, in the weight of a beloved head resting against a knee. Homes become graves not through fear, but through devotion, as the animals humanity cherished most become the silent vessels of something no one understands.

People do not run from the dogs they raised. They hold them. They stay. They whisper comfort while the world dissolves around them.

Across empty streets and fading cities, echoes of companionship linger: abandoned leashes, bowls left half-full, photographs no one is left to frame. Scientists search for answers, survivors search for meaning, and every memory hurts like a reopened wound.

Because the truth is cruel and unforgettable:

We were undone not by hatred or war, but by love that refused to let go.

Man's best friend and humanity's final heartbreak.