
Now, those days were long gone, but I still cherished the traditions. Each year, I decorated my house with cobwebs, pumpkins, and spooky lights, and waited for the neighborhood kids to come trick-or-treating. It brought a little light into my otherwise quiet life.
Just two years ago, I had walked the same streets with my daughter, holding her tiny hand as we went door to door. It feels like a distant dream now, a beautiful memory that slipped away too soon. Losing her shattered me, and it broke my marriage with John as well. We couldn’t find a way to heal, and we drifted apart under the weight of our grief.
That night, after handing out candy for hours, I realized my bowl was empty. With a sigh, I hung a “No More Treats” sign on the door. A familiar ache settled in my chest—the kind that never fully goes away.
My house stood directly across from a cemetery, a place that unnerved most people. It didn’t bother me. The rent was cheap, and I’d never been one to believe in ghosts. I made myself a cup of cocoa and sat by the window, half-expecting to see some teenagers playing pranks among the gravestones.
But what I saw instead made my heart skip a beat. Near one of the graves was what looked like a baby car seat. I blinked, thinking it was a trick of the light, but the shape didn’t waver.
I grabbed my coat and hurried outside, the chilly October air biting at my skin. The cemetery was eerily still as I walked closer to the grave, every step filled with dread. When I finally reached it, my breath caught in my throat. There, in the car seat, was a tiny baby, fast asleep.
“Oh my God,” I whispered, kneeling down to pick her up. She was so small, completely unaware of the cold night air around her. “How did you get here?” I asked softly, knowing there would be no answer. I held her close and rushed back to the house.
Once inside, I laid her gently on the couch and noticed a note taped to her car seat. With trembling hands, I unfolded it. The note read, “Amanda, one and a half years old.”
That was all. No phone number, no explanation. Just a name. I searched the car seat for more information, but there was nothing. I looked down at Amanda, who stirred slightly, and felt my heart twist. What was I going to do with her?
Without thinking, I called the police. They listened as I explained the situation, but when they told me there were no reports of a missing child, frustration bubbled inside me. Still, they asked me to bring her in.
At the station, Amanda sat quietly in her car seat, her wide eyes gazing up at me as though she already trusted me. When the officers said she’d be placed in the care of social services, a sudden surge of protectiveness washed over me.
“Can she stay with me, at least for now?” I asked, my voice steady though my heart raced.
After hours of paperwork and background checks, they agreed. Amanda was coming home with me.
The days that followed were a blur of bottles, diapers, and sleepless nights. It had been so long since I’d taken care of a little one, but it all came back to me piece by piece. Every morning, I bought her toys, read her stories, and watched as her giggles filled the quiet spaces of my house. She became the light I didn’t know I needed.
It wasn’t always easy—some nights, her cries were impossible to soothe. But even in those difficult moments, I found joy. Amanda had filled the void in my heart, a place that had been empty for so long. The more time we spent together, the more attached I became.
One morning, as I fed Amanda breakfast, there was a knock at the door. I opened it to find a police officer standing with an elderly woman by his side.
“Jessica,” the officer said gently. “This is Amanda’s grandmother, Carol. She’s here to take her back.”
My heart sank. Amanda had become so much a part of me that the thought of letting her go felt unbearable. But Carol was her family. I had no right to keep her.
Carol stepped forward, smiling warmly. “Hello, sweetie,” she said, reaching for Amanda. Every instinct in me screamed to hold on, but I slowly handed her over.
The moment Amanda left my arms, she started to cry. Her little hands reached for me, and it was like a dagger to my heart. Tears stung my eyes as I watched her go, but I knew I had no choice.
Before leaving, Carol handed me a basket and thanked me for taking care of Amanda. As soon as they were gone, I collapsed on the couch, tears flowing freely. It felt like I had lost my daughter all over again.
Later that night, I stared at the basket, too heartbroken to eat. Something nagged at me, though. I picked up the thank-you note Carol had left and read it again. The handwriting looked familiar.
My heart raced as I ran to my room and grabbed the note that had been left with Amanda’s car seat. Holding the two side by side, a chill ran down my spine. The handwriting was the same. Carol had abandoned Amanda at the cemetery.
Without hesitation, I grabbed my phone and dialed a number I hadn’t called in a long time.
“John, hi,” I said, my voice shaking.
“Jess?” he sounded surprised. “Is everything okay?”
“No,” I admitted, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on me. “I need your help.”
“I’ll be right there,” he said, his voice firm.
John arrived in under twenty minutes. I told him everything—about Amanda, the cemetery, and Carol’s deception. He listened quietly, and when I finished, he asked the question I’d been dreading.
“What do you want to do?”
“I want to take her back,” I said, my voice strong with conviction. “Amanda belongs with me.”
John nodded, and from that moment, we worked together. It was a long battle—endless meetings with lawyers and tense confrontations with Carol—but we didn’t give up. Weeks later, we stood in court, ready to fight for Amanda’s future.
Carol broke down on the stand, admitting that she had left Amanda at the cemetery because she could no longer care for her. The court revoked her custody, and I was granted temporary guardianship—with the possibility of adoption.
As I walked out of the courthouse, Amanda resting peacefully in my arms, I couldn’t stop smiling. She was mine, and I would do everything in my power to keep her safe and loved.
John walked beside us, his expression calm but content. “You’re going to be an amazing mom to her,” he said softly.
I smiled at him, my heart full of gratitude. “Thank you, John. I couldn’t have done this without you.”
As we walked away from the courthouse, I felt a renewed sense of hope. Halloween had always been special to me, but now it meant something even greater—it brought Amanda into my life.
And perhaps, just maybe, it was bringing John back into it, too.
Pittie Mom Can’t Stop Crying For Her Puppies After Being Abandoned At Shelter

When Cinnamon – a red nose Pitbull girl – was dumped at the Charlotte Mecklenburg Animal Care & Control shelter in North Carolina, she was absolutely heartbroken.
She had been abandoned without her babies, and every time anyone stopped to talk to her, tears filled her eyes.
This sad Pitbull mama caught the eyes of one volunteer, who then decided to film a short video of her and post it on Facebook.
Only 48 hours later, the life of Cinnamon completely changed.
Cry Of A Broken Heart


Subscribe to the Dog Lovers Club!
Sarah Jennings Sleime, normally a volunteer for the Greater Charlotte SPCA, decided one Saturday that she was going to make a spontaneous trip to animal control to check out a couple of dogs for rescue.
She had no idea that one dog in particular was going to break her heart.
“I walked the kennels and a pit bull caught my eye… she was sitting up, kind of slumped-over, almost human-like,” Sleime wrote in her Instagram post.
It was pretty obvious that she recently had puppies and was completely heartbroken since her puppies weren’t there with her.
“[The shelter workers] believe she was confined and used as a breeding machine. She’s obviously had many, many litters,” Sleime told The Dodo.
She then bent over and started to talk to Cinnamon, but each time she did so, Cinnamon’s eyes filled with tears.
“It was the craziest phenomenon,” Sleime said.

In the absence of a foster home, the SPCA was unable to rescue any big dogs, but Sleime knew she had to do something to help this poor dog.
“I snapped some video footage of her “crying” and posted it to Facebook. 48 hours later, that video has been viewed 1 MILLION times and shared by 20k people,” Sleime wrote.
In only a day, Sleime’s inbox was filled with hundreds of messages about Cinnamon and her availability.
So many people wanted to adopt this pretty girl and give her a new life that will not be filled with tears.
Happily Ever After
Sleime’s friend, Meghan Connor Shelton, from Charlotte, North Carolina, was also among the hundreds of people to see Cinnamon’s video.
She told The Dodo:
“I have a special place in my heart for pit bulls. I think they’re a very misunderstood dog and a misunderstood breed. And when I saw her in that video, literally crying in a cage, I cried. My kids cried. I showed my husband, and he said we could go look at her tomorrow.”
The next morning, Shelton’s family was first in line to meet Cinnamon.
The whole family, including the children, were immediately in love with her. “It was love at first sight. She just kind of pulled at our heartstrings,” Shelton said.
They filled out the paperwork, and as soon as Cinnamon – now known as Rosie – was spayed, they brought her home.

The family already had another dog at home – a 3-year-old Pitbull male named Blu.
At first, they weren’t sure if the two would get along, especially since Rosie had suffered a lot in her life, but she surprised everyone.
“It was interesting because you never know how it’s going to go, but they just kind of sat next to each other with tails wagging,” Shelton said.

The two are now the best of friends, and they enjoy each other’s company. It’s like they’ve known each other their whole life.
As Rosie slowly got used to her new home and life, her personality also blossomed. According to the family, one of her most interesting characteristics is that “when she gets excited, she snorts like a pig”.
Rosie’s touching video not only secured her a new home, but it also helped many other dogs at the shelter find their forever home.

“Small acts have a big impact: Not only was this sweet dog, Cinnamon, adopted the next morning, but other families who came to adopt her saved other dogs at the shelter, freeing up kennels for strays and owner surrenders waiting in the back who would have certainly been euthanized as the shelter is full,” Sleime said.
One simple video or a photo can reach millions of people and in a matter of seconds, change someone’s life.
Visit the CMPD Animal Care and Control page, and the Greater Charlotte SPCA’s website for more information about adoptable dogs for an opportunity to save another pup’s life just like Rosie’s was saved.
Leave a Reply