That morning, nothing meant much to me. Sinking into my chair, I tried not to fall asleep as my parents discussed home improvements with the refurbisher. I scanned the room—between the chatter and the security camera that seemed as bored as I was, I knew I was going to be there for a while.

I decided to sacrifice my phone battery by turning to pet adoption websites. My eyes glazed over pages of animals and I entertained the idea of another dog. I wondered if I could have another pet. But when I came across Joey, I knew my question had been answered.

The adoption facility smelled of fresh air, abuzz with meows and wagging tails. I found myself among people hurriedly moving about, colored adoption papers in hand.

I brushed through crowds, scanning for the little tan puppy I had seen online. The moment of excitement quickly deflated, acknowledging that there was a chance she had been adopted already.

Taking a deep breath, I entered the area where the dogs were kept. She was the first one I saw. I swallowed down my urge to cheer as I stared back at the little animal.

Her chocolate brown eyes made me melt. A pink identification tag clung to her neck, as she was too small for a dog collar. The paper taped onto the glass confirmed that it was her.

Joey wobbled in a desperate attempt to keep up with her excitement. I knew she was the one. As I walked down the hall to complete the registration process, I couldn’t help but to look among the faces in cages I had previously neglected.

I stopped for a moment, looking down at a black lab named Buddy. His ears perked with excitement as he moved closer to the gate. The little puppy in my arms then whined cautiously, and Buddy realized I wasn’t there for him.

While I was overjoyed to give someone a home, I couldn’t help but wonder how many others wouldn’t get that chance. At home with Joey chewing on my finger and a laptop in front of me, I began my search.

The majority of that night was spent discovering cases of abandoned animals, puppy mills and kill shelters until I was in tears. Joey sat on my lap as I traced the pattern of her fur and searched my ceiling for answers. However, the more I thought, the less I believed in myself. With Buddy on my mind, I slowly shut my laptop and tucked into bed.

Ideas continued to buzz in my mind throughout the next day. My mom and I decided to grab some puppy food at the pet store.

The usually calm and laidback shop was filled with children running around, dogs sitting by lawn chairs and animal information sheets clipped to cages. I hesitated to make eye contact with any pets— I didn’t want to let anyone else down.

Looking around, I met eyes with a woman that gave me a warm smile. I realized she was the host of the event.

She beckoned me closer to make conversation. I stepped back for a moment, laughing awkwardly, waving her off. She insisted. We made polite conversation, and I explained that I had adopted a new dog, which piqued her interest. I confessed that I wished I could do more for animals left behind.

“Well, why can’t you?” she replied.

I responded with confusion, saying that I couldn’t open my home to any more animals. She laughed for a moment, before excusing herself.

I rocked on my heels, staring at the linoleum floor. For a moment, I debated leaving the store to escape my embarrassment.

However, the woman returned, a piece of paper in hand. As I read over the volunteer application, she explained that the organization she worked for needed new members to help support fostered animals. She sent me away with her contact information and a newfound optimism.

Two years later, Joey is fully grown and rambunctious, tearing up the yard and chewing on tennis balls. My phone buzzed with a notification from my volunteer group, telling me that one of our animals found their forever home. The woman reminds me that over the summer a vet is eager for me to shadow her.

My days have been filled with lonely cats purring against me after I open their cages, strangers deciding to welcome a pet into their homes after speaking to me and Joey becoming uncontrollably excited when I walk in the door. I’ve come to realize that while I’m just one person, I can make a difference.