By the time I reached the station, everything moved quickly in that controlled chaos we’re trained for—paramedics, lights, voices cutting through each other with purpose—but even in the middle of it, the dog never left the boy’s side.
“He’s alive because of that dog,” one of the paramedics told me later, her voice steady but her eyes carrying something heavier. “No question.”
I nodded, because there wasn’t anything else to say.
That should have been the end of it.
But it wasn’t.
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