When her route ended that afternoon, Laura parked the bus, grabbed her jacket, and walked back toward the neighborhood. The air was cool, the streets almost empty. She didn’t know what she expected to find, but something in her heart told her she had to go. As she turned the corner, she saw him again—the golden dog sitting exactly where he always did, staring down the road, perfectly still. For a long moment, Laura just watched. There was something deeply sad about his quiet patience, as if he believed someone he loved would step off that bus and come home. She crouched a few feet away and said softly, “Hey, friend. Who are you waiting for?” The dog turned his head slightly, met her gaze for a brief moment, and then stood up. Without a sound, he began walking away.
Laura hesitated but decided to follow. The dog moved with quiet purpose, tail hanging low, paws padding gently across the cracked sidewalk. He turned down a narrow lane lined with old fences and overgrown yards, heading toward the edge of town. Laura followed at a distance so she wouldn’t frighten him. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of gold and orange. Finally, the dog stopped in front of a small, worn-down house with peeling blue paint and a rusty gate. He sat again, gazing at the front door, completely still. The house looked abandoned. The porch sagged, weeds covered the steps, and the windows were clouded with dust. Laura’s chest tightened. Why was he here?
As she wondered, a quiet voice spoke behind her. “You’re not the first person to follow him.” Laura turned to see an older woman standing near her mailbox. The woman’s eyes were kind but sad. “He’s been doing this every day since his owner passed away. He waits for him to come home on that bus… but he never will.”
Continue reading on the next page to uncover the heartbreaking truth.