The dog tried to follow.
Then the doors sealed shut with a finality that felt louder than it should’ve been.
That was when the dog sat.
Not slumped.
Not confused.
Upright.
Squarely planted in front of the ICU doors, eyes fixed forward, unblinking.
At first, staff assumed he’d move eventually.
An hour passed.
Then another.
He didn’t move.
A janitor tried nudging him gently with a mop handle.
The dog lifted his head and released a low, controlled growl.
Not a threat.
A statement.
This space is taken.
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