If you’ve scrolled X or doom-scrolled your TV guide lately, you’ve probably caught the viral clip that’s racking up millions of views and turning tough guys into blubbering messes: Pete Wicks, the tattooed TOWIE heartthrob turned Strictly sensation, locking lips – or rather, muzzles – with a quivering rescue pup in a moment so raw, so joyously sloppy, it’s being hailed as “the most emotional TV beat of the year.” No, it’s not some scripted rom-com redux; it’s straight from the kennels of Pete Wicks: For Dogs’ Sake, the UKTV docuseries that’s got Britain ugly-crying over canine comebacks. In the latest episode drop – a gut-punch Christmas special that aired December 7 – Wicks doesn’t just help a dog find its furever family; he seals the deal with a drool-drenched smooch that left viewers reaching for tissues, takeout, and adoption forms. But is this the pinnacle of feel-good telly, or just the latest paw-some plot twist in Pete’s pooch-powered redemption arc?

Let’s rewind the reel for the uninitiated. For Dogs’ Sake isn’t your average celebrity vanity project. Launched in January 2025 after Wicks traded his dance shoes for dog leashes post-Strictly Come Dancing, the series catapults the 37-year-old Essex lad into the trenches of Dogs Trust Basildon, one of the UK’s busiest rehoming hubs. What starts as a “summer immersion” spirals into a full-blown lifestyle overhaul, with Wicks trading nightclub cameos for kennel cleanups, celebrity schmoozing for surgical assists, and heartbreak hotel check-ins for happily-ever-after handoffs. “I went in thinking I’d lend a hand,” Pete confessed in a post-episode X thread that garnered 500K likes. “Came out realizing dogs don’t just save lives – they rewrite yours.” Across 12 episodes, we’ve witnessed everything from puppy farm busts to biopsy scares, but nothing prepped fans for the finale flourish: the story of Luna, a slobbery Staffie cross who’s equal parts wiggle and worry.

Enter Luna, stage left – or rather, kennel crate. The three-year-old bundle of bouncy black-and-white fur arrived at Basildon in late October, a stray scooped from Manchester’s mean streets after locals reported her dodging traffic and dumpster-diving for days. “She was skin and bones, eyes like saucers, but that tail? Wagging like she’d won the lottery,” recalls rehoming officer Sarah Jenkins in the episode’s voiceover, her tone a mix of maternal pride and quiet ache. Luna’s rap sheet? Classic rescue roulette: Possible abandonment (microchip traced to a lapsed rental flat), a limp from God-knows-what tumble, and a slobber game so aggressive it could double as a car wash. Wicks meets her on Day 47 of her stay, during a routine “meet-and-greet” segment where potentials parade past the pens. But Luna? She doesn’t parade. She plasters herself to the gate, paws scrabbling, emitting a whine that’s half plea, half party horn. Pete, mid-sip of his builder’s tea, freezes. “Mate, that’s not a dog – that’s a hoover with feelings,” he quips to camera, but his eyes? They’re already misting.

What unfolds next is pure, unfiltered magic – the kind that makes you question why we’re not all volunteering at shelters instead of doom-scrolling cat videos. Wicks, sleeves rolled up over his inked arms, dives into Luna’s rehab routine: Gentle leash walks around the center’s agility course, trust-building games involving squeaky toys the size of his ego, and a vet check that uncovers nothing worse than a touch of kennel cough and a heart “big as a house.” But the real plot pivot? The adoption audition. Enter the Millers – a soft-spoken couple from Leeds, empty-nesters who’d lost their spaniel to old age six months prior. “We weren’t rushing,” husband Tom admits on camera, fiddling with his woolly hat. “Then we saw Luna’s photo online. That face… it was like she was calling us.” Wicks shadows the meet: Luna’s initial zoomies give way to tentative sniffs, then full-body leans. By minute 15, she’s sprawled across Tom’s lap, head in his wife’s, as if auditioning for a doggy lap dance.

The turning point? That kiss. As the papers sign and the carrier clicks open for the final handover, Luna – sensing the shift from temporary to triumphant – launches herself at Wicks in a frenzy of licks that could hydrate a desert. Slobber flies, fur sticks, and Pete? He drops to his haunches, wraps her in a bear hug, and plants one right on her dripping snout. “Go on, girl – you’ve got this,” he murmurs, voice cracking like a teenager’s. The camera lingers: Droplets glint under the fluorescent lights, Wicks’ tough-guy facade dissolves into a grin-and-grimace combo, and the Millers? They’re dabbing eyes with disposable wipes from the welcome pack. Cut to black. Roll credits. But the internet? It didn’t roll – it roared.

Within hours, #LunaKiss trended UK-wide, amassing 3.2 million views on UKTV’s TikTok alone. “Sobbed like a baby. Pete, you’re a legend,” gushed one viewer, attaching a screenshot of her own shelter application. “That slobber said more than words ever could,” chimed another, spawning a meme wave of edited clips overlaying the smooch with rom-com soundtracks. Celeb endorsements poured in: Strictly‘s Craig Revel Horwood tweeted, “Pete’s paso doble with pups > any dance floor. Adopt, don’t shop!” Even Ed Sheeran, a fellow dog dad, reposted with a single heart-eyes emoji and a link to his local rescue. Critics? They’re calling it “the Paul O’Grady moment of the decade,” evoking the late comedian’s tear-jerking Battersea Dog tales. UKTV reports a 45% spike in post-episode streams, while Dogs Trust Basildon logged 200+ inquiries by noon the next day – a 30% uptick from the series average, which already boosted adoptions by a third.

But let’s zoom out: Is this the most emotional moment of 2025? In a year that’s served up everything from Olympic heartbreaks to election-night gut punches, Luna’s lick lands like a lifeline. TV’s been awash in feels – think The Repair Shop‘s heirloom hugs or First Dates‘ proposal pivots – but Wicks’ world hits different. It’s not polished pathos; it’s gritty gratitude, laced with the stark stats that underscore the slobber: UK shelters rehomed 120,000 dogs last year, but 20,000 more waited in vain. Pete’s not just a presenter; he’s a provocateur, his Essex drawl delivering gut-truths like, “Humans let these legends down – least we can do is show up.” His own pack – rescues Eric and Peggy – flanks him in every episode, a furry Greek chorus underscoring his shift from party boy to purpose-driven. “Dogs don’t judge your past; they just wag for your present,” he philosophizes in the special’s coda, fresh from a South Korean meat farm raid that saved 174 souls earlier this year. That mission? It left him “heartbroken and helpless,” but Luna? She’s the balm.

Of course, not everyone’s paws are clapping. Some X cynics snipe it’s “celeb savior syndrome,” a glossy gloss-over of systemic shelter strains. Fair? Maybe. But Wicks counters with action: The special ends with a hotline blitz, urging viewers to “skip the Santa sack – fetch a forever friend.” And the numbers don’t lie – post-airing, Basildon’s waitlist shrank by 15 spots overnight. Jenkins, Luna’s handler, spills in a follow-up clip: “That kiss? It wasn’t just goodbye; it was ‘get out there and live, kiddo.’” The Millers, now Luna’s official overlords, share home videos on Insta: Her first fireside flop, a chew toy massacre, and yes, more slobbery serenades – this time for them.

As 2025 bows out with bah-humbug headlines, Pete’s pup pact reminds us: Amid the chaos, a single slurp can stitch souls. Is it the year’s emotional apex? Polls say yes – a RadioTimes snap-snap pegs it 72% “all-time tearjerker.” For Wicks, it’s simpler: “If one kiss saves one life, that’s the win.” Viewers, still speechless, couldn’t agree more. Stream the special on UKTV now – but stock up on Kleenex. Your heart (and your screen) won’t thank you, but every wag in the world just might.