Emily noticed it first: the way Ranger always positioned himself between Lily and the front door. The way he perked up at neighborhood sounds before anyone else. The way he shadowed Lily on the lawn, his eyes scanning the yard rather than the toys.
“You see that?” Emily whispered one afternoon as Ranger planted himself firmly between Lily and the fence line. “He’s protecting her.” David folded his arms. “He’s alert. That’s different.” Maybe. Maybe not. That evening, their neighbor, Mr. Callahan, waved from across the street with his usual friendliness.
Emily returned the wave, balancing Lily on her hip, thinking nothing of it. But Ranger paused. He stopped so abruptly that his nails clicked against the patio stone. His ears lifted, his body straightened, and he stared toward the far corner of the yard — not tense, not frightened, just… fixed. Studying something Emily couldn’t see.
“Ranger?” she called softly. He didn’t move. Not for a long moment. Then, just as suddenly, he looked away and followed them inside, as if nothing had happened. Emily shrugged it off. Ranger didn’t. Ranger adjusted to their home faster than Emily expected.