The Journey Back
The drive home from the clinic was the complete opposite of the drive there. Instead of a heavy, silent weight in the back seat, Max sat up, his nose pressed against the window, watching the world go by with fresh wonder. Sarah felt like she was breathing for the first time in months. She kept glancing in the rearview mirror, half-expecting him to disappear, terrified that this was all a beautiful dream.
When they arrived home, Sarah didn’t let him out immediately. She grabbed a can of industrial-strength yard spray and a tick-prevention collar she’d bought on the way. She realized now that the beautiful, overgrown ivy in her new backyard had been a breeding ground for the parasites. She felt a pang of guilt, but she pushed it aside. She had been given a second chance, and she wasn’t going to waste a second of it.
She helped Max out of the car. He walked up the porch steps—slowly, one at a time, but on his own. He went straight to his favorite sun-drenched spot on the rug in the living room and let out a deep, contented groan as he settled down. He looked around the room, his tail giving a soft thump-thump-thump against the floorboards. He was home, and the “Peace Suite” felt a lifetime away.
