At 43, she had no one but Greta, her loyal German Shepherd. Doctors urged immediate surgery—her brain tumor was aggressive, and her odds were just 20%. Before going under, she made one request: to see her dog.
Greta entered the hospital room, sniffed the air, then rushed to her side. The woman wept. “I’m scared,” she whispered. “But I love you.”
Then Greta growled. When the doctors approached, she lunged and bit one on the arm. The woman, shaken, said, “I’m not doing this. Run the tests again.”
Reluctantly, they did. That evening, the scans came back—her tumor had vanished.
A week later, she walked Greta through the park, healthy and free. Hugging her close, she whispered, “You knew.”
