Patrick Mahomes Meets A Dog In A Dump, His Treatment Journey Will Make You Cry
The wind howled through the empty streets of Elmsford, carrying with it the bitter cold of winter. Snowflakes drifted lazily down from the heavy clouds above, blanketing the sidewalks and rooftops in a thick, undisturbed layer of white. The town was eerily quiet, with only the occasional streetlight flickering against the darkness. Most people were tucked away in their homes, safe and warm from the freezing night outside.
Patrick Mahomes, however, was not inside his home. He was behind the wheel of his SUV, his gloved hands gripping the steering wheel as he navigated the slick, icy roads. He had spent the evening visiting an old friend, catching up over a crackling fireplace and a few glasses of wine. Now, as he drove home, the warmth of that cozy evening was fading, replaced by the stark emptiness of the silent streets around him. The headlights of his car sliced through the darkness, illuminating the road ahead.
Just as he was about to turn onto the highway, something caught his eye. A shadowy figure lying motionless in an alleyway. At first, he thought it was just a pile of discarded trash or an abandoned coat left behind by someone seeking shelter. But something didn’t sit right. His gut twisted, and instinct took over. Slowing down, he pulled the car over, his heart pounding.
He stepped out of the car, the bitter wind immediately cutting through his coat, but he barely noticed. His eyes were locked on the unmoving form in the alley. As he approached, his chest tightened. There, curled up against the cold, shivering violently, was a German Shepherd. Its once thick coat was now patchy and thin, revealing ribs that jutted out sharply beneath its matted fur. Snowflakes clung to its back, and its body barely moved, save for the faint rise and fall of its chest.
Patrick’s breath caught in his throat. The dog’s eyes were half-lidded, dull and lifeless, almost as if it had already given up. He had seen stray dogs before, but something about this one struck him differently. Maybe it was the sheer exhaustion in its eyes or the way its body barely flinched at his presence. Most strays ran away at the sight of a human. But this dog? It didn’t have the strength to care.
Crouching down, Patrick reached a hand out carefully. “Hey, buddy,” he murmured softly. “What are you doing out here all alone?”
The dog didn’t move, didn’t even flick its ears. Patrick’s chest tightened. He knew that if he walked away now, the dog wouldn’t survive the night. The temperature was dropping fast, and in its frail condition, it wouldn’t last much longer without warmth or care.
Without hesitation, Patrick shrugged off his thick wool coat and draped it gently over the dog’s body. The dog gave a weak whimper but didn’t resist. That small sound was enough to tell Patrick everything. The dog still had some fight left in it. It wasn’t ready to give up just yet.
“All right, buddy,” Patrick murmured, his voice firm but kind, as he carefully slid his arms underneath the dog’s fragile body. The moment he lifted it, he realized just how light the dog was. It weighed far less than it should have. Its body was alarmingly fragile in his arms. A pang of anger flashed through him. How had someone let this happen? How had this dog been left to waste away in the freezing cold?
Cradling the animal against his chest, Patrick quickly carried it back to his SUV, opening the back door and gently laying the dog down on the blanket he kept there. The dog didn’t struggle, didn’t fight. It let out a tired sigh, curling slightly into the warmth. Patrick slid into the driver’s seat, glancing back in the rearview mirror. The dog’s eyes were half-closed, but now there was something there. Something that hadn’t been there before. Hope.
“Hang in there,” Patrick said, his voice firm but gentle, as he turned the key in the ignition. “Welcome to your second chance.”
He wasn’t just driving to get home. He was driving to save a life.
Patrick headed straight for the nearest 24-hour veterinary clinic. His mind raced with possibilities. What if the dog was too far gone? What if the vet told him there was nothing they could do? But Patrick wasn’t ready to accept that. Not yet.
The drive felt longer than it should have. Patrick kept glancing back at the dog in the rearview mirror, watching it curled up on the blanket in the back seat. Its breathing was uneven, and every so often, a weak shiver ran through its fragile body.
Almost there, buddy, Patrick murmured, gripping the steering wheel tightly.
The snowfall had intensified, covering everything in pristine white. The streetlights cast long, ghostly shadows as he pulled into the dimly lit parking lot of the West Elmsford Animal Emergency Center. The building was small but brightly lit, the neon sign flashing “Emergency Vet Open 24/7.”
Patrick didn’t waste a second. He jumped out of the car and swung open the back door. The icy wind bit at his face, but he ignored it, carefully scooping the German Shepherd into his arms. The dog let out a faint whimper but didn’t resist. Patrick pushed through the clinic’s glass doors, setting off a soft chime above. The warmth inside was an instant relief, but Patrick’s focus was solely on getting the dog help.
A young woman behind the receptionist desk looked up in surprise. Her eyes widened as she took in the scene. “Oh my God,” she gasped, immediately grabbing a clipboard. “What happened?”
“I found him in an alley,” Patrick said quickly, his voice steady despite the concern in his eyes. “He’s malnourished, freezing, and barely breathing.”
The receptionist didn’t hesitate. She pressed a button on the intercom. “Dr. Wilson, we have an emergency intake: severe malnutrition and hypothermia case.”
Within seconds, the door swung open, and a vet in his mid-50s with sharp but kind eyes strode in, pulling on a pair of gloves. Two vet techs followed, one of them rolling a mobile gurney. “Lay him here,” Dr. Wilson instructed.
Patrick gently placed the dog onto the gurney, stepping back as the team immediately got to work. The vet’s practiced hands moved with precision, checking vitals, running his fingers over the dog’s ribs and limbs. One of the vet techs inserted a thermometer while another pulled out a stethoscope.
“Severely underweight,” Dr. Wilson muttered. “Temperature’s dangerously low. He’s hypothermic, dehydrated. Been on the streets a long time by the looks of it.”
Patrick folded his arms, his jaw tightening. He knew it was bad, but hearing it confirmed by a professional made his stomach twist.
“Can you save him?” Patrick asked quietly.
Dr. Wilson exhaled sharply but nodded. “We’re going to do everything we can. We’ll start him on warm IV fluids, antibiotics, and high-calorie nutrition therapy right now. We need to stabilize him.”
Patrick felt a lump rise in his throat. He had known that. That’s why he hadn’t walked away.
“If he’d been out there much longer, he wouldn’t have made it through the night,” Dr. Wilson said, meeting Patrick’s gaze.
Patrick exhaled in relief. It wasn’t a guarantee, but it was hope.
The hours dragged on. Patrick refused to leave the clinic. He sat in the waiting room, a cup of lukewarm coffee untouched in his hands, his mind racing. Had the dog been abandoned? Had it gotten lost? Was there someone out there who had once loved it, or had the world simply failed it like it failed so many others?
At around 3:00 a.m., Dr. Wilson emerged from the back room. Patrick sat up immediately. “How is he?”
The vet let out a breath. “He’s stable for now. He’s in critical condition, but he made it through the first few hours. That’s a good sign. We’ll keep him under observation. His biggest battle now is regaining strength.”
Patrick exhaled in relief. It wasn’t a guarantee, but it was a sign that the dog had a chance.
“Look,” Dr. Wilson said, giving Patrick a long look. “When Ghost is strong enough, he’s going to need a home.”
Patrick hesitated. He hadn’t even considered what would come after this. He had just wanted to make sure Ghost survived. But now, looking at the dog, lying on the gurney with its fragile body, Patrick knew the answer before he even had to think about it.
“I’ll take him,” Patrick said without hesitation.
Dr. Wilson smiled. “I had a feeling you would.”
Helping Hands runs ‘Mahomes special’ to boost adoptions
The Topeka Helping Hands Humane Society is hoping the popularity of Kansas City Chief’s star quarterback Patrick Mahomes, will get more homeless pets out of the shelter and into loving homes.
This Saturday, January 12: playoff day, HHHS will be featuring a Patrick Mahomes number 15 price special. That means all cats, kittens, and older dogs will only be $15 to adopt, while all other dogs will only be $115 to adopt (the special does not apply to High Profile Pets).
“We know that Mahomes is a pet lover, and we thought this would be a fun way to show our support for the Chiefs in their playoff game,” says Kathy Maxwell, Executive Director of Helping Hands Humane Society.
Mahomes and his girlfriend, Brittany Matthews, have a Pit Bull mix named Steel who even has his own Instagram account @steelthepit
