I left the tablet on the kitchen table while grabbing laundry upstairs. When I came back down, our St. Bernard was sitting upright, eyes LOCKED on the screen, paw resting on my phone. At first I laughed—until I saw the screen flashing with an outgoing call to my boss, and in the background, my voice saying something I didn’t remember saying.

My heart dropped. The last few days had been a whirlwind, with deadlines at work piling up and personal matters I was trying to avoid thinking about. I leaned in closer, squinting at the screen, as the voice continued, sounding a little too relaxed for a work call.

“I know it’s hard, but this is just temporary. I’ll make it work, no matter what,” I heard myself say, followed by a nervous laugh. I blinked twice, completely caught off guard. Why would I say that to my boss? And why the hell was it on a call to him? My stomach twisted into knots.

I fumbled for my phone, unlocking it to check the call log. The outgoing call was real. It had been dialed just minutes before I’d returned downstairs. I immediately called the number back, my hands trembling. When it went to voicemail, I sighed in relief but also anxiety. Had I said something I shouldn’t? What did I even say?

As I paced back and forth, I tried to piece together the past few days, trying to remember if I had been having a conversation with my boss or if this was some strange slip of the tongue. Nothing came to mind, except one thing. I had been stressing a lot lately about my job and personal life—feeling like I was at a breaking point. The pressure of balancing everything had been weighing on me for a while, but I didn’t think I had actually told anyone about it, not even my boss. Did the stress make me do this? Was I talking in my sleep?

The last time I’d even mentioned anything personal to him was months ago during a performance review. I had talked about how much I loved the work, but how exhausting it was. Maybe he sensed I was burned out, and this was his way of trying to get me to admit it. But still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something more was happening here.

I stared at the tablet, wondering how the dog managed to somehow make this call. Was he really trying to help me in some weird, canine way? My St. Bernard, Bruno, had always been a bit of a character. He would sit in front of the TV, staring at it for hours without ever breaking his focus. But this? This felt too intentional. As if the dog had somehow, by some bizarre stroke of luck, stumbled upon the call button and listened in on my conversation, pressing the phone screen with his giant paw.

I took a deep breath. It wasn’t like I could change what had happened. Maybe my boss hadn’t even heard the message. Maybe it was just a glitch. Maybe it wasn’t as big a deal as I thought. But the more I tried to calm myself down, the more uneasy I became. My mind raced. Why had I mentioned something so personal in a call? What if my boss thought I was unstable?

I decided to go ahead and leave a message for my boss, apologizing for the strange call and reassuring him that everything was okay. I didn’t want to admit to him that it was my dog that had dialed him, though. That would have just sounded ridiculous. Besides, I could already hear his judgment in my head: “Doesn’t seem like you’re handling things well, does it?”

The next day at work, I walked into the office, trying to keep my face neutral. My boss was already at his desk, typing away at his computer. I felt the weight of his gaze as I sat down at my desk and opened my laptop.

“Morning,” he said without looking up.

“Morning,” I mumbled, but I could tell he was holding something back. I braced myself for the inevitable.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, he spoke up. “We need to talk about your performance.”

My stomach tightened. This was it. He’d heard the voicemail. He knew I was on the edge, slipping in some way I hadn’t even realized.

I forced myself to sit up straighter, trying to maintain my composure. “Okay,” I said, my voice wavering just a little.

He finally looked up at me. “I’ve been noticing lately that you’ve been stressed out. A lot of missed deadlines, and some of your work hasn’t been as sharp as usual. You mentioned something on the phone yesterday about it, and I think we should address it.”

My heart sank. There it was—the confirmation I didn’t want. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

He held up a hand. “No need to apologize. We all go through rough patches. I just wanted to check in and see if you need any support.”

I wasn’t sure what to say. The truth was, I wasn’t even sure if I had the energy to keep up with the pace I’d been working at. But I couldn’t let him know that. “I’m fine,” I said quickly, before the words could betray me. “I’ll get back on track. Just a little overwhelmed, but I’ll figure it out.”

He didn’t seem convinced but nodded anyway. “Okay. Let me know if you need anything.”

I left his office with a mix of relief and dread. The relief came from not having to explain myself further, but the dread… it was still there, gnawing at the back of my mind. I had somehow, in a moment of weakness, opened up to him in a way that felt too raw, too exposed. And now I had to work harder than ever to prove that I was in control again.

As the day dragged on, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had missed something important. Something more was happening, and I needed to understand what it was. When I got home later that night, I sat down with Bruno, who was lounging on the couch as if nothing had happened. He looked at me with those big, brown eyes, and I couldn’t help but wonder: did he know something I didn’t?

It was then that I remembered something strange about Bruno. Whenever I was feeling down, he would nudge me gently, as if trying to comfort me. Could it be that he was somehow picking up on my stress and trying to intervene? Maybe he had triggered that call to my boss not because of some random accident, but because he sensed that I was struggling. I chuckled to myself, shaking my head at the absurdity of it all. Was my dog trying to play therapist?

The thought was ridiculous, but it gave me a strange sense of peace. Bruno, despite being just a dog, seemed to be more in tune with me than I realized. Maybe he wasn’t as clueless as I thought. Maybe he had just done what he thought was right—trying to help me in his own way, even if it was through an odd, accidental phone call.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized that my stress had been building up for months, long before the phone call. It wasn’t just about the work deadlines or the constant pressure to perform; it was about my fear of failure, my fear of disappointing others. Bruno, in his own strange way, had reminded me that I didn’t have to carry all of that alone. I had people around me—friends, family, coworkers—who would support me if I asked for help.

I knew I had to change how I approached everything. The next time I felt overwhelmed, I would reach out. I wouldn’t let the pressure build until it was too much to bear. And I would stop pretending that I could handle everything on my own.

The next day, I sent my boss an email, admitting that I had been struggling and needed some support. It felt vulnerable, but it also felt right. I was finally taking the first step toward being honest about my limits.

To my surprise, he replied with nothing but understanding and encouragement. “Thank you for being honest. We’re all human. Let’s find a way to make things work for you.”

I stared at the screen for a moment, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was taking control—not of everything, but of the one thing I could: my own well-being.

As for Bruno, he sat beside me, his massive head resting gently on my lap. I scratched behind his ears, and for the first time in days, I smiled. Sometimes, it was the smallest things—the unexpected moments—that reminded me of what truly mattered.

And maybe, just maybe, my dog had known all along.

If you’re ever feeling overwhelmed, remember, you’re not alone. It’s okay to ask for help and to take a step back. Don’t let pride or fear hold you back. Like Bruno showed me, sometimes the most unexpected things can be the reminder you need to take care of yourself. Share this story if you’ve ever felt like this or know someone who has. It might just be the encouragement they need today.