Chapter Ten - The Doggy Store: A Bark, a Whimper, a Cosmic Connection

CHAPTER TEN

The Doggy Store: A Bark, a Whimper, a Cosmic Connection

I WALK PAST the pretzel place, take a left at the sock kiosk, and there it is.
The doggy store.
The one with real dogs. Not plushies. Not screen savers.
Living, wiggling, full-soul-eyed dogs.

My stomach flips.
This is where we found Stoney.

I step inside and the scent hits me—puppy breath and cedar shavings.
There’s a corgi doing parkour in his little glass chamber.
A beagle puppy is howling like he’s narrating an opera.
And a golden retriever looks like he’s been waiting for me since time began.

I walk slowly.
Each tiny face pressed against glass like a little prisoner of cuteness.
And then I hear it:
One bark.
Low.
Steady.
Almost…familiar.

I turn.
There’s a chunky mutt staring at me.
He looks like he’s been through 12 timelines and back.
His tag reads:

“TEMP NAME: Biscuit. Temp? Buddy, I’ve been named Biscuit in every life.”

He looks me dead in the eye and winks.
I don’t say anything.
But I nod.
Because I remember.

I’m not here to get a dog today.
I’m just here to remember the one I already have.
To honor the first tail wag that changed my life.
To stand in the middle of a mall and know that the best part of my life began right here,
in a glass box,
with a single bark.

The girl behind the counter asks,

“Can I help you?”

I smile.

“Nope. Just visiting a friend.”

And I leave.
But as I turn the corner, I hear a bark that sounds exactly like “See you again.”