The Garage Christmas: A Father, a Son, and the Dog Who Stayed

Ryan said. “Tell me where you are.”

I didn’t have time to argue.

I scooped Buster up, all sixty pounds of old love, and carried him to the truck.

My hands were clumsy. My breath came out in little clouds.

I drove like my life depended on it.

Because it did.

The closest animal clinic was thirty minutes away—if you didn’t slide into a ditch.

Buster lay on the continue reading …