Some dogs fetch. I hold the line.

My name is Tag. Sixty pounds of goldendoodle, ninety percent military general, ten percent stubborn curls, and one hundred percent assigned to a kid named Jake Bennett.

Jake sees the world differently. His brain runs hot and loud, his blood sugar swings without warning, and people around him call him hostile, damaged, and broken. I call him mine. My job is simple: read the chemistry in his breath, ground him when the world gets too big, and never, ever abandon my post.

This is the story of a boy the world tried to fix, a dog who refused to let him break, and everything that happens in the gray areas in between.

“Bring tissues. Consider it emotional cardio.”