Copper came into Rachel’s life six months after her divorce was finalised. She hadn’t planned on getting a dog. A friend had sent her a photo of a litter of Labradors — golden, fat, ridiculous — and Rachel had driven to the breeder the next morning without thinking it through. She picked the one that walked straight to her and sat on her foot.
By the time Copper was three, he had filled up her apartment in a way that surprised her. His bed took up half the living room. His toys were everywhere. She built her mornings around his walks and her evenings around his dinner. Her friends said she’d become one of those dog people. She didn’t argue.
She found Dr. Harmon’s clinic through a neighbour who’d been going there for years. It was a fifteen-minute drive, clean, well-run. Dr. Harmon was calm and methodical. He remembered Copper’s name without checking the file. Rachel trusted him from the first visit and never had reason to question that trust — not for four years.