The first few days were fine. Rex was well-behaved, ate on schedule, and slept near the back door. George walked him in the mornings before work and found it unexpectedly pleasant. The dog had a steadying quality, an attentiveness that made the walk feel purposeful.
It was around day three that Rex began to follow Zoe. He wasn’t pacing or whining. He simply positioned himself near her, the way a shadow does, without fuss. If she moved to the kitchen, he was in the doorway. If she went upstairs, he was at the bottom when she came back down, sitting straight, ears forward.
George mentioned it, and Zoe shrugged it off smilingly. “He probably smells the biscuits I had in my pocket,” she said. George laughed. He thought that was probably it.