Chapter 19: Two Collars
Late that night, after the party had died down and the house was finally asleep, Arthur sat alone in his oak-paneled study. A single desk lamp cast a warm, yellow glow over his paperwork.
He opened the bottom drawer of his desk, the one he rarely touched. Inside sat a small wooden box. He pulled it out and opened the lid. Resting on a bed of velvet was a faded, worn leather collar with a brass tag that read Buster.
Arthur traced the tarnished brass with his thumb. For years, looking at this collar had brought him nothing but a suffocating wave of sadness. But tonight, the feeling was different. The sharp edges of the grief had been sanded down. The love remained, but the pain had transformed into a quiet, peaceful nostalgia.
May you like
He reached into his pocket and pulled out another collar—Finn’s very first puppy collar, the tiny blue nylon one that no longer fit his thick neck.
Arthur placed the small blue collar right next to the faded leather one inside the wooden box. Two different lifetimes, two different dogs, but the same immense capacity for love. He closed the box, tucked it safely back into the drawer, and smiled. His heart hadn't replaced Buster; it had simply grown large enough to hold Finn, too.
