Part 6
She nodded once and went toward the office.
Toby had lowered his chin beside Piper’s outstretched foot. Grant waited another minute before following Tessa to the desk.
The preliminary paperwork had places for his number, his address, his signature. He filled them in, including the phone number Tessa knew by heart. She brought the two folders together while he read the instructions for preparing the house.
He asked about the threshold at his back door, how much movement was too much, and where to put the beds. Tessa answered each question and wrote down what he wanted to check with Lydia.
Grant stayed until Piper was settled for the night. Before leaving, Toby returned to the recovery bed and stood beside it. Grant waited, then called him.
The puppy came without tightening the leash.
At the lobby door, Tessa asked whether Grant wanted help when it was time to take Piper home.
“Yes,” he said. “Toby’s coming with me to get her.”
Tessa held Toby’s lead while Grant carried Piper from the truck the next afternoon. Lydia had cleared her to leave, and the folded discharge instructions were tucked into Grant’s coat pocket.
Inside, rugs covered the slippery stretches of floor. A low bed waited in the living room, with water close enough that Piper wouldn’t need to make a trip across the room.
Grant lowered her carefully. Toby sniffed her blanket while Tessa checked the medicine schedule with him one last time.
After she left, he put the bottles in a closed cupboard beside the coffee. He taped the schedule inside the door, where he could check it while the pot brewed.
Toby watched every adjustment Piper made. If she raised her head, he raised his. When she got up to drink, he stood and followed.
Grant supervised their quiet time together and separated them for a rest when Toby became too restless. At night, their beds lay side by side in the living room.
The days divided themselves into doses, short trips outdoors, and notes in the medicine log. Grant helped Piper over the threshold and turned back before her stride began to falter. Toby got his own time outside. On workdays, help from Velora covered the visits Grant couldn’t make.
One night, a scuffing sound woke him.
Piper sat beside the water bowl, holding most of her weight off the recovering leg. Grant brought the bowl within reach and knelt while she drank. Then he helped her back to the bed and drew the rumpled blanket flat.
Toby appeared in the doorway.
Grant kept one hand near Piper’s shoulder.
“Go sleep. I’ve got her.”
The white puppy remained there while Piper settled her head. Grant smoothed the edge of the blanket and waited.
At last, Toby turned toward his own bed.
In the morning, Grant found him stretched on his side, legs loose, still asleep beside Piper. He stepped around them and went to make coffee.
As Lydia allowed more activity, Piper explored farther into the yard. Grant learned how many easy steps she could manage before the left leg began to change her gait. He called them in before she was tired enough to resist stopping.
Sometimes she managed a short chase after Toby. He would wheel around, delighted, only to find Grant waiting at the door for both of them.
Her appetite recovered ahead of her stamina.
One morning, she finished breakfast and marched toward Toby’s bowl. He stopped chewing with a bit of kibble caught against his lip and looked at Grant.
Grant moved Piper back to her own place.
“Complaints open after coffee.”
She sat with her eyes fixed on the remaining food. Toby ate more quickly. Grant stood between them with his empty cup until both bowls could be put away.
At a follow-up appointment, Lydia took Piper into the examination room and shut the door.
Toby sprang up.
Grant sat in a chair with the lead resting loosely across his knee. There was room for the puppy to stand and look without being pulled back.
Toby took a step toward the door. He waited, ears forward, then glanced at Grant.
He returned to the chair and sat against Grant’s leg. After a while, he lay down. Grant kept his hand nearby without closing it around the leash.
Ten minutes later, Piper came out. Toby scrambled to greet her. She touched noses with him, then went to Grant and pressed beneath his hand for her scratch.
He obliged while Toby investigated Lydia’s shoe. Then he gathered both leads and walked them out.
Tessa called six weeks after Piper had come home. The adoption paperwork was ready.
Grant took both puppies to the shelter. The repaired kennel wing was open, and an unfamiliar dog barked from the run where Toby had slept.
At the desk, Toby stretched toward Tessa’s pen. Piper stretched toward Toby. Grant shortened the leads while Tessa moved the papers out of reach.
He recognized both folders. Separate names on the tabs, the same address on the pages inside.
Tessa checked his contact information while he read the final form.
“We won’t have trouble locating you,” she said.
Grant moved Toby’s nose away from the page.
“He can give directions.”
Tessa held the corner steady, and Grant signed.
Not long afterward, he took the puppies to the local memorial for working dogs. Since Boone’s death, he had always managed to find a shift to cover or an errand that would keep him away.
This time, he stood near the end of a row, one lead in each hand.
The roll was read aloud, honoring dogs in retirement alongside those who had died. People around him murmured when they recognized one. Grant followed the list on the folded program until he heard Boone’s name.
The next line blurred.
Piper leaned against his leg. On his other side, Toby sat with his ears turning toward the voices.
Grant adjusted the leads so they didn’t cross. He remained through the last name, then folded the program smaller and tucked it into his coat before taking the puppies home.
Winter closed in around Dunrick. The puppies’ feet began to look less oversized. Toby’s ears stood upright more often, and Piper could reach the kitchen first whenever she had a reason.
After too much time outside, she still favored the left leg. Grant kept the next veterinary appointment marked on the calendar.
One dark morning, he woke and turned toward the clock.
5:43.
He was moving down the hall before he had considered why. At the living-room doorway, he put a hand against the frame.
Piper slept on the rug beside the sofa. Toby was curved against her, one pale foreleg resting across her back. The old rubber ball lay near his feet.
Grant waited until his breathing slowed. Neither puppy stirred.
He went into the kitchen, measured coffee, and filled the reservoir without turning on the overhead light.
Before the pot finished, nails clicked behind him.
A sock hung from Toby’s mouth as he paused at the kitchen entrance. Piper arrived beside him, watching Grant’s hand.
“Before breakfast?”
He reached down. Toby backed away, and Piper followed him into the hall.
Grant’s empty hand stayed extended for another second. Then he picked up his cup.
From the living room came a soft landing on the rug, followed by the squeak of Boone’s ball.