I loved that dog. He was family. The guilt of even considering rehoming him was crushing. So we tried to find another solution—something that would keep Zoey and Claire safe without forcing us to let Beau go.
That Friday, Rose and I decided to go out for dinner at our favorite burger spot—just to clear our minds. Claire agreed to stay with Zoey for a few hours. Beau was in the laundry room, the gate closed, per her request. Everything seemed fine until my phone buzzed at the table. Claire’s name flashed across the screen.
I answered. “Derek!” she cried. “Beau… he tried to attack me! He went crazy when I picked up Zoey!”
I heard Zoey crying in the background. Claire sounded breathless. Rose was already grabbing her purse. We sped home like bats out of hell. Claire met us in the living room, clutching Zoey tightly, her face pale. Beau sat behind the baby gate, still as a statue, ears low.
“He lunged at me,” Claire said. “I don’t feel safe around him.”
I nodded mutely, barely hearing her. Something didn’t sit right. I knew Beau. I knew his heart. Growling, barking, blocking someone’s way—sure. But lunging? That wasn’t him.
“Go sit down,” I told Rose. “I need to check something.”
I went to the hallway closet and pulled out the security system monitor. We had a camera in the living room, mostly to keep an eye on Zoey when we were out. I pulled up the feed from earlier that night and fast-forwarded to when Claire arrived.
For illustrative purposes only
There she was, stepping through the door, greeting Beau with a wary glance. Zoey was in the bassinet. And slung over Claire’s shoulder was a small gray backpack. We’d seen that bag before but never thought much of it. Then I watched as she glanced over her shoulder, slipped it off, and tucked it behind the couch.
My heart raced.
