Leo in his dinosaur hoodie, gulping down cereal like we were late (we weren’t), and Max—our golden retriever—right under his chair, tail wagging, waiting for spills that never came. Since we moved here last spring, Max had this weird habit of walking Leo to the bus stop. Not just walking, though. Stopping him. Every single time, he’d sit beside him, place one paw on Leo’s knee, and stare like he was trying to say something.

At first, I thought it was cute—loyal-dog stuff. Protective instincts or whatever. But over time, it started to feel… heavier than that.

Today, Max didn’t even wait for the leash. He trotted out ahead of Leo, sat on the sidewalk like a statue, and when Leo got close, he pressed his paw harder than usual into his leg. Not playful. Almost tense.

Leo looked down at him and said, “I’ll be back, Max, promise.”

But Max didn’t move.

I could see Leo’s hand twitch like he was going to pet him, but then he just kind of… froze. His mouth opened slightly, like he was about to say something. Then he turned to me with this weird look on his face—somewhere between confused and scared.