EPISODE 9 — Making Amends
It was Cole’s idea. Or maybe Rex’s — the way the old dog kept staring at the empty bench beside Tank’s booth, like he was waiting for someone.
“You ever think about getting another dog?” Cole asked one Tuesday.
Tank went still. “I don’t know if I can.”
“Buddy wouldn’t want you to be the last dog’s monument,” Cole said. “He’d want you to be some other dog’s whole world.”
Three weeks later, Tank drove to the county shelter. He told himself he was just looking.
The shepherd mix was in the last kennel. Skinny. One floppy ear. Scheduled — the volunteer whispered it — scheduled for Friday.
Tank knelt by the kennel. The dog came over, sniffed his tattooed hand, and licked it.
“Hey,” Tank whispered, and his voice cracked. “Hey, buddy.”
He signed the papers in ten minutes. Bought a bed, bowls, the good food. Drove home with the dog’s head out the window, ears flying, tongue lolling — and had to pull over twice because he couldn’t see through the tears.
He named him Buddy. Of course he did.
The first Tuesday he brought Buddy to the diner, the whole place erupted. Denise cried. Marco came out with a plate of sausage. Rex inspected the newcomer with the gravity of a general reviewing troops, then flopped down beside him, head to head.
Cole watched Tank watch the two dogs, and smiled into his coffee.
“Chapter,” Cole said.
“Chapter,” Tank agreed.
