About to be arrested, the old man would like to meet… a dog, no one expected his life to change direction from there

In the dim light of the provincial prison, the sound of iron chains chirped every time the cell door opened. Mr. Tam, 65 years old, with gray hair, sat on a thin mattress, his eyes sunk deep into the patchy wall. Tomorrow, he will face the death penalty for smuggling MT – an accusation he swore he did not commit. Five years ago, his life collapsed, and now, when the prison guard Hung, a grumpy man with knife-sharp eyes, asked him what he wanted before he died, the old man said softly, his voice trembling but clear: “I want to see a dog.”

Hung stood stunned, then burst out laughing, laughter echoing in the cold corridor. “A dog? Are you crazy? People ask to see their wives and children, lawyers, or priests. And you, a dog?!” But Mr. Tam did not flinch. He looked Hung in the eye and said in a slow voice: “His name is Muc, a black dog, who lived in my village five years ago. If you can’t find it, bring any dogs.” The surrounding guards giggled, but the old man’s gaze silenced them. Hung shrugged his shoulders and ordered a subordinate to investigate, even though he thought this was just a joke by a dying man.

The news of death row inmates asking to meet dogs spreads as fast as a virus. Outside the prison, social networks exploded. Posts with hashtags #ÔngLãoVàConChó appear everywhere, attracting thousands of shares. In the small village where Mr. Tam used to live, people began to search for memories. They remembered an old motorcycle mechanic, living alone in a crumbling house at the end of the village, always followed by a small black dog. Five years ago, he was suddenly arrested, leaving the house empty and the Squid wandering. Some people said that he was slandered, but no one dared to speak up.

In the cell, Mr. Tam was silent, his calloused hands gripped the edge of his shirt. He did not explain, did not clarify. Only occasionally, he smiles, as if he sees the image of Ink running his bicycle on the sunny village road. Hung, although initially mocked, began to become obsessed. Why would a dying person bother with a dog? What’s behind this quirky request?

Time passed like a knife blade to the neck. Just a few hours before the execution, a middle-aged man from a rural village appeared in front of the prison gate, carrying a black dog, shaggy hair, opaque eyes but still shining with loyalty. “I’m not sure this is Ink,” the man said, his voice hesitant. “But it was raised by a family in the village after Mr. Tam was arrested. He’s old, but he’s still alive.” The dog walked with a limp, as if carrying a lifetime of waiting.

The cell door opened. When the dog was brought in, Mr. Tam raised his head, and time seemed to stop. He knelt down, his trembling hands touching the animal. “Ink… Is it really you?” he whispered, his voice bursting. The dog wagged its tail weakly, rubbing its head into his lap, as if recognizing its owner after so many years of separation. Hung stood there, feeling his heart flutter for the first time. The guards turned their faces away, hiding their tears.

In the midst of sobbing, Mr. Tam told a story that had never been revealed. Five years ago, he was tricked by a group of people, forced to carry a package that he thought was motorcycle parts. When the police arrived, he had no chance to explain. The last image he remembers is of Muc, his only friend, barking loudly, following the police car carrying him until he collapsed. “I’m sorry, Ink,” the old man said, tears rolling down his emaciated cheeks. “I just want to see you one last time, to say that I have never forgotten.”

That story, through the old dog, spread all over social networks. A young journalist, named Mai, read the post about Mr. Tam and decided to investigate. She found the case record, found loopholes in testimony and evidence. Mai contacted a human rights lawyer and brought the case to light together. Her posts went viral, sparking a wave of outrage. People took to the streets, holding up banners demanding justice. The image of the old man holding the old dog became a symbol of injustice and loyalty.

The execution was postponed at the last minute. A new trial was opened. Thanks to the evidence collected by Mai, Mr. Tam was declared innocent after five years of unjust hiding. When he walked out of the prison, the emaciated old man was greeted like a hero by the crowd. Next to him was Muc, although weak, still limping away, as if he didn’t want to leave. Mr. Tam smiled, for the first time in five years, feeling freedom.

He returned to the village, where people contributed money to repair the old house. The squid lived for a few more months, enough to enjoy peaceful days with him. When Muc died, Mr. Tam buried it under the banyan tree in front of the house, where they used to take a lunch break. He carved a small stele: “Ink, the friend who saved my life.” Their story becomes a lesson in loyalty and faith, a reminder that sometimes, a simple friendship can work miracles, bringing light to the darkest corners of life.