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Who died and left all their worldly belongings to a nephew they’d met maybe once or twice when the kid was too young to remember?

Jake still wasn’t eating. Fuck. I knew I wasn’t cut out for this shit.

“Buddy. We’ll figure this out. Somehow.” I was certainly no doggie psychologist. There were experts who’d tried to do that with me and had failed. But something had to give. I refused to give up on him.

I grabbed my jacket and keys, heading for the door. “Do you want to come with me?”

At least he lifted his head, but only briefly. Well, fuck.

“Okay. I’ll be back in a little while. Keep the place safe.”

A dark chuckle formed on my lips when I headed to my truck. Safe. I was probably in the safest freaking place in the world. Nowhereland, Colorado.

I jumped in and started the engine, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel as I drove. The truth was I had no clue how to handle people, but I was usually pretty good with animals. Maybe I just wasn’t cut out to be a papa dog.

Bile formed in my throat as memories pulsed through my mind. I didn’t need to think about the past any longer. At least that’s what I’d been told. Live my life. Move on. Learn to deal.

Right.

Fuck all of them.

The drive only took a few minutes and I was parked in front of the shelter. When I walked inside, the same young girl behind the counter smiled at first then scowled.

“Please don’t tell me you’re bringing him back. That’s just…”

“Cruel?” I finished for her. “Nah, but looking for any other information. He won’t eat. He won’t play. Nothing.”

She didn’t need to go get the other lady who’d been so kind. Margie walked out, taken aback as well.

“Did something happen to Jake?” she asked.

“No, but he’s almost catatonic.”

She nodded. “You didn’t leave a phone number. I found a few things that might give you something to work with. I was going to find your address and drop it off. Maybe what’s inside will help.”

“What is it?”

Margie sighed. “His former owner left a bag when he dropped Jake off with us. I was told the man was heartbroken. Sadly, I wasn’t here that day. Let me get the bag for you.”

What kind of hardship had the person gone through to make him leave his dog? I scratched my head as I waited. I wanted to do right by the pup but was even more uncertain.

When Margie returned, she had a duffle in her hand. It was the same kind of bag I’d taken with me to boot camp a hell of a long time ago.

She handed it over and I was surprised there was weight to it. “Do you mind if I look inside?”

“Of course not.”

I unzipped the bag, surprised to find at least thirty tennis balls inside. Some obviously well used and two in fresh canisters. They were obviously his favorite toy and I hadn’t bought a single ball for him. I rustled inside, finding two bowls with a name on one.

“His name isn’t Jake. It’s Tank.”

Margie smiled. “Maybe that will help.”

“Yeah, maybe.” I also noticed a sealed envelope. I pulled it out, curious but cautious. On the outside was a single line.

To the person lucky enough to get my dog

Well, fuck.