Tank stayed beside me in the garage for almost an hour while the rain hammered against the roof overhead.

The garage suddenly felt too small to breathe in.

“You drove me to chemo. You cleaned me up when I couldn’t stand. You slept in hospital chairs. You missed work because I was scared to be alone.”

Behind me, Tank gave a low sigh against the concrete floor.

Dad glanced toward him and smiled faintly.

“And this old dog never left either.”