For a few seconds, the terrier sniffed cautiously at the air.
Then it leaned forward.
Its small nose pressed gently into Greg’s palm with a desperate little nudge.
A long sigh slipped from its thin chest.
Greg swallowed hard.
“Okay,” he whispered.
Carefully, his fingers moved near the injured ear, avoiding pressure on the wound.
“I see that hurt.”
The dog didn’t pull away.
Instead, it leaned closer, pressing its trembling body against Greg’s knee.
Its eye slowly drifted halfway closed.
Trust.
Simple. Honest. Complete.
A Warm Jacket in the Rain
Greg slipped off his patrol jacket and wrapped it carefully around the shaking dog.
“There we go,” he murmured softly.
The terrier sighed again, softer this time.
Rain continued to fall across the empty parking lot.
Somewhere far off, traffic hummed faintly along the highway.
But in that quiet corner of the world, everything suddenly felt still.
Greg gently lifted the dog into his arms.
The small body weighed almost nothing.
Too light.
The terrier tucked its nose against his chest as if it had finally found warmth.
“You made it through a rough night,” Greg said quietly.
The dog’s tail tapped weakly against his arm.
Greg smiled.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “I think you did.”
