Chapter 8 - When Buster Could No Longer Climb the StairsBuster was thirteen when his hips began failing.
Caleb was fourteen.
The veterinarian told us gently:
“Months.”
Caleb stared at the floor.
“No.”
Nobody argued.
We treated pain.
Built ramps.
Bought ridiculous orthopedic beds.
Marcus purchased another one despite Buster already having three.
Caleb started sleeping at the tow office on weekends.
One night I found him sitting beside Buster at 2 a.m.
“You okay?”
“No.”
I sat.
“He's the last thing I have from before.”
I knew what he meant.
Before Melanie died.
Before hospital rooms.
Before Wade's trial.
Before the project.
Buster connected him to the life that was gone.
“If he dies, does that whole part disappear?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you remember.”
Caleb looked annoyed.
“That's an old-person answer.”
“I'm an old person.”
“You're fifty-four.”
“Ancient.”
He smiled.
Then became serious.
“Mom saved him once.”
“What?”
“When he was a puppy.”
Caleb told me Melanie found Buster beside a rural highway.
Someone had abandoned him.
She brought him home.
Wade hated the dog from the beginning.
Caleb loved him.
“So Mom rescued Buster.”
“Yeah.”
“And Buster helped save you.”
“I guess.”
“And you used Buster to rescue everyone else.”
Caleb looked at the dog.
“That's a lot of work for one dumb dog.”
Buster opened one eye.
Caleb laughed through tears.
Three weeks later, Buster stopped eating.
We knew.
Everyone came.
Marcus.
Luis.
Dee.
Anna and Robert.
Eli, now seven.
Dr. Priya.
Caleb held Buster's head.
“You don't have to stay because I'm sick anymore.”
His voice broke.
“I'm okay.”
Buster breathed slowly.
“You did your job.”
Caleb reached into his pocket.
A penny.
He placed it beside Buster.
“Paid in full.”
Buster died with Caleb's hand against his neck.
Just as Caleb's hand had rested on him in Room 312 years earlier.
We buried him near the old oak behind the tow yard.
Not because the ground was special.
Because Buster liked sleeping there.
The town wanted a statue.
Caleb refused.
“He'd pee on it.”
Instead we planted a tree.
The plaque read:
BUSTER
HE STAYED.
May you like
Nothing else.
That was enough.
