Connie gestured at the floor. “He’s dripping rain and mud, El.” “So were half our walk-ins tonight,” Elena said. She ducked into the break room, filled a stainless bowl, and slid it under the glass. The mastiff drank, then lifted his head and stared at the girl’s IV drip, as if learning the rhythm.
“Hero dogs can’t override policy,” the charge nurse muttered later, eyes soft despite the words. Elena nodded. “They don’t. Triage does. The child called him…in her state.” Her respirations had steadied. The dog hadn’t blinked away from her face in twenty minutes. “If he creates a problem, I’ll own it,” Elena added. “Until then, he stays.”