The Listener

In the corner of the campus, where our counseling office is located, a fluffy little creature shows up every day, rain or shine. It's not a teacher, nor a student—but a little dog named "Milk Tea."

With her soft fur and big, round eyes, Milk Tea naturally invites you to crouch down and gently pat her head. Her gaze is always so genuine and warming, and few would guess the hardship behind those gentle eyes. Milk Tea spent the first few months of its life in an illegal breeding facility, confined within a limited cage, nearly discarded as a "breeding tool."? At the time, she feared people, flinched at noise, and didn’t even dare to step outside the door of the emotional counselling office.

"When she first arrived, she was such a sensitive little thing," Ms. Karisma recalled, kneeling beside Milk Tea during one of our student wellness talks. "Even the gentle hum of the printer would make her dart under the desk. She was afraid of hands, of voices, of footsteps. But you could tell—she still wanted to trust people. She wanted to be loved."

At the time, Ms. Karisma hadn't planned on taking in a dog. Her days were already packed with back-to-back counseling sessions, crisis emails, and late-night phone calls from parents who were overwhelmed. She worried about the commitment, wondering whether she could provide a rescued dog with the consistency it needed. But something about Milk Tea—the tremble in her body as she leaned against Karisma's knee, the flicker of hope in her eyes—made her pause.

Milk Tea quickly became the office's "star assistant." She lay calmly beside the couch as students poured out their hearts, occasionally getting up to nudge their fingers with her nose, as if to say, “I’m here. It’s okay.”

Milk Tea's presence not only healed the students but also quietly changed Ms. Karisma's life. She used to be a free-spirited person, going wherever she wanted and eating whenever she wanted. But since Milk Tea arrived, she started going for walks at fixed times every morning and evening, and had to rush home before work to feed it. “It may seem like a constraint, but it's added a rhythm to my life,” she said. “Milk Tea taught me that some responsibilities, though they may seem troublesome, are another form of happiness.”

"It taught me a lot," Ms. Karisma said. "For example—you're never truly 'ready' to do something, but once you start, you'll gradually become the person who can do it."

I am terrified of dogs, but when Milk Tea lay down on my lap and fell asleep, I felt nothing but tranquility within my mind. Small and soft, she lay there on my lap, and her weight was the weight of peace of mind.

Ms Karisma and Milk Tea

The sun was shining brightly outside the window. Milk Tea lay on the carpet, eyes closed, dozing. The students sat on the sofa nearby, quietly sharing their recent worries. Karisma sat to the side, nodding occasionally. And Milk Tea, simply by being there quietly, provided more than words ever could.

It was the quietest, warmest listener.