A few days later, I left work early again — and froze when I saw a shiny red SUV parked near the alley. A gray-haired man in a suit stood beside it, staring at Theo and Rusty with an intensity that made my stomach clench. I hurried over.
He whispered one word: “Rusty?”
He introduced himself as Gideon. Rusty, he explained, had belonged to his son Michael, who had died in a car accident two years earlier. After the funeral, Rusty had run away. Gideon had searched everywhere but found nothing — until someone sent him the viral post. Something about the photo reminded him of his son, so he came.
He believed Rusty should go home with him. But when he tried to leave, Rusty walked right back to Theo and pressed against his leg. Theo, in a trembling voice, said, “He doesn’t care who he belongs to. He just wants someone who stays.”
The words hit Gideon hard. He left quietly, letting Rusty remain.
The next day, Theo left a sandwich and a handwritten note on Gideon’s SUV: “He likes honey. Please don’t be mad if he follows me tomorrow.”Continue reading…
