Twelve years. Twelve years of unwavering service. Twelve years of loyalty. My name is Jack, and I was an officer. Sadie, my partner, was a German Shepherd whose instincts were sharper than most people’s.

She could find the missing, rush toward danger, and track through anything—rain, smoke, or silence. She earned the name “Sergeant Sadie” long ago. She knew the sound of my boots before anyone else, would wait by the door for me, and slept beside the radio.

But one day, she slowed down. Her steps softened. Her eyes, once bright, began to fade. We wrapped her in a blanket, and she didn’t flinch. She was ready.

On that day, officers from three different precincts gathered. No one spoke. We didn’t need to. As I leaned in, I whispered, “You did good, girl.”

Now, her collar hangs on my desk. And every time I hear the echo of my boots in the hall, I still wait for her to follow. 💔🐾