Part 5 – The Dog in the Delivery Van
The first frost came overnight, crisping the edges of leaves and ghosting breath into the morning air.
Tasha scraped the windshield with an expired debit card. Jayden sat in the front seat, blowing on his fingers, watching his own breath fog the window. Tony curled in the back beneath a thrift store quilt, his muzzle tucked under his tail, eyes barely open.
They were all tired.
Tired in different ways—but tired just the same.
—
The holidays brought more work.
People ordered more when the weather turned. More soups, more pies, more last-minute groceries from apps run by people who’d never carried six bags up three flights of stairs.
Tasha’s phone buzzed constantly. Delivery after delivery. Frozen turkeys. Boxes of wine. Canned yams and sprigs of rosemary from overpriced health food stores.
And everywhere she went—someone asked about the dog.
“Is that the one from the video?”
“Can he come say hello?”
“My mom saw him on the news—said he looks like our old Scout.”
It slowed her down. Hurt her bonuses.
But it made her something else, too.
Seen.
For the first time in years, she wasn’t invisible. Not just the woman behind the wheel. Not just the gig worker trying to make ends meet.
She was Tasha with the dog.
—
And yet… she couldn’t shake the fear.
Every night, she checked her account. Looked for that message she knew might still come. Badge revoked. Deactivation permanent. Thank you for your service.
All it would take was one more complaint. One customer with the wrong attitude. One new supervisor trying to impress corporate.
Her whole world now balanced on a badge that wasn’t even supposed to exist.
She didn’t tell Jayden.
Didn’t tell anyone.
Just drove harder. Smiled more. And tried not to let the dread crack her voice.
—
One night, she pulled into a driveway lined with flickering Christmas reindeer.
An older man opened the door. Late seventies, face hollow, hands spotted with age.
“You’re the one with the dog, right?” he asked.
Tasha nodded.
He looked past her. “Can he come in?”
“I’m not really supposed to—”
“My wife died last year,” he said quietly. “We had a black lab. Forty Christmases with her. I just want to remember what it felt like.”
Tasha swallowed the lump in her throat. “Just for a minute,” she said.
Tony padded inside like he’d lived there all his life. Laid his head on the man’s foot. Didn’t move when the man knelt, pressed his forehead to Tony’s shoulder, and wept.
—
When they got back in the van, Tasha wiped her eyes and whispered, “How do you know who needs you most?”
Tony didn’t answer. Just yawned and curled into the blanket again, as if he’d used up all his magic for the day.
—
The next morning brought a letter.
Not an email. Not a text.
A letter, taped to her front door.
Typed. Official.
“Notice of Community Standards Review – Bell Badge Pilot Program”
She scanned it once, heart pounding.
Then twice.
They were evaluating the badge. Deciding whether to extend, modify—or cancel it entirely.
Tasha sat on the porch with the letter in her lap and her hands shaking.
Tony pressed against her side.
Jayden came out and read her face before he read the letter.
“They’re gonna take him away?” he asked.
“No,” she said. “They can’t. He’s not theirs.”
But the words felt brittle in her mouth.
Because the truth was—if the badge went, the customers would too. And without the customers…
There’d be no rent. No groceries. No robot-dog museum trips.
Just bills and apologies.
And the sick ache of once having something good.
—
That afternoon, she drove in silence.
Didn’t take Tony to the doors. Didn’t make eye contact.
Her smile felt painted on.
Until her last stop of the day—a weathered house with wind chimes and three garden gnomes buried in dead leaves.
A girl opened the door. Maybe ten. Holding a worn teddy bear.
Tasha handed her the bag.
“You’re the dog lady,” the girl whispered. “Mom says your dog saves people.”
Tony sat up in the back seat and whined.
The girl waved at him.
Then leaned in and whispered, “Sometimes I wish he’d find us.”
Tasha looked past her into the dim house.
Saw shadows. Heard silence.
She didn’t ask questions.
Just nodded and said, “He finds who needs him. Always.”
—
Back at home, Jayden was already asleep on the couch, his science museum brochure crumpled in one hand.
Tasha kissed his forehead.
Then crawled into bed beside Tony and stared at the ceiling.
The badge was a miracle. But miracles didn’t last.
She knew that.
Knew how quickly good things disappeared.
And that’s when she whispered the thing she hadn’t dared to say before:
“If they make me choose between the job and you… I’ll choose you.”
Tony shifted, rested his head on her chest, and exhaled.
Like he’d known all along.
Like he never doubted her.
Not for a second.