I wake up on the living room floor with a stiff neck and the smell of antiseptic in my nose.
Lily is curled up like a comma against Duke’s bandaged side, her fingers tangled in his fur.
My phone is buzzing nonstop on the coffee table.
For a second, I think it’s the vet calling with bad news.
It’s not the vet.
It’s notifications.
The post I wrote last night—the one about the dog I almost gave up—has exploded.
Hundreds of likes.
Dozens of comments from friends, neighbors, and people I don’t even recognize.
“Your dog is a hero.”
“Crying at my kitchen table right now.”
“Animals are better than people.”
I scroll, still half asleep.
Someone has shared my post into a community group.
Someone else typed, “This is why we shouldn’t judge big dogs.”
Then another comment right under it: “This is exactly why big dogs shouldn’t be allowed around kids at all.”
My stomach tightens.
It’s like watching strangers argue in my own kitchen.
A text pops up from my coworker, Jenna.
Girl. Turn on the local news feed. I swear that’s Duke.
