The Day I Bought Pet Care & Pet Products… and Found a Heart I Wasn’t Looking For

Two weeks ago, I got a DM on Instagram from a stranger named Sola. The message read:

“Hey, do you still sell premium pet care & pet products? My dog is sick, and I need help urgently.”

That already caught my attention. I’ve been running my small online store for pet supplies—everything from organic pet shampoo to grain-free treats.

But something about his message felt urgent, like it wasn’t just about pet care; it was about a deeper emergency.

I replied, “Yes. What exactly do you need?”

He sent a picture of a small brown dog—eyes dull, fur tangled, and paws caked in dirt. Behind the dog, I could see a tiny kitchen, the kind you only see in low-budget apartments.

I typed fast: “Send your address. I’ll bring my pet grooming kit, flea treatment, and some multivitamins.”

The sun was melting into the horizon, staining the sky orange and purple as I arrived at a dusty street in Agege. The air smelled of fried plantain from a nearby stall, mixed with the sharp tang of petrol fumes.

Sola was already outside—tall, in faded jeans and a wrinkled shirt. He wasn’t what I expected; he looked more like someone who hadn’t slept in days.

“You must be the pet products guy,” he said, relief softening his tired face.

“Yeah,” I smiled, handing him the supplies. “Where’s our little patient?”

The room was small, lit by a single flickering bulb. The dog—a little mongrel named Bruno—lay on an old towel in the corner, trembling.

I knelt beside him. “Hey, buddy,” I whispered, letting him sniff my hand. His tail gave a slow, tired wag.

Sola hovered nearby. “I tried everything… boiled rice, biscuits, even sardines. But he keeps scratching and refusing food.”

I opened my bag, pulling out the flea shampoo, herbal skin spray, and a soft pet brush.

“Let’s start with a bath. Bruno needs clean skin before the vitamins can even work.”

The backyard was nothing more than a broken tap over a cracked concrete slab. I rolled up my sleeves, wet my hands, and gently poured warm water over Bruno. The soap smelled faintly of lavender and aloe.

Bruno whimpered at first, but soon leaned into my touch, eyes closing. Sola crouched beside me, watching like I was performing surgery.

“You really know what you’re doing,” he said quietly.

I grinned. “I sell pet care products, yes… but I also use them. I’ve got two rescue cats and a hyperactive parrot at home.”

That made him laugh for the first time. “A parrot? In Lagos? How?”

“Long story. Let’s just say he talks more than I do.”

I dried Bruno with an old T-shirt, sprayed his fur with herbal treatment, and gave him a small serving of grain-free kibble. To my surprise, he ate.

Sola’s eyes lit up. “He hasn’t eaten in three days!”

I shrugged. “Sometimes all they need is the right care. Pet care isn’t just about products—it’s about patience, too.”

As I packed up, I noticed a framed photo on the table—Sola in a crisp suit, standing beside a woman in a wedding gown, holding a very healthy Bruno between them.

“You’re married?” I asked casually.

Sola’s smile faded. “Was. She… she left six months ago. Bruno’s all I have left. When she walked out, she didn’t even take her clothes—just left me and the dog.”

For a second, the room felt heavier. I didn’t know what to say, so I just patted Bruno’s head.

“Guess that makes us both in the rescue business,” I said.

Sola shook my hand firmly. “You didn’t just save my dog today—you saved me too.”

Walking back to my car, I glanced over my shoulder. Sola was on the floor, playing with Bruno, laughing like a child.

It hit me right there—pet care is never just about pets. Sometimes, it’s about keeping humans alive too.

I drove off into the night, the scent of lavender and wet fur still in my hands, thinking… this is why I’ll never stop doing what I do.