Part 5 – The Last Bite of Hope
The surgery took place on a Tuesday.
Cold. Windy. The kind of day that made January feel like it had no end.
Luis and Milo sat in the clinic’s waiting room, the same brown chairs, the same humming light above.
But this time, the jar was empty.
Not because they’d given up —
But because they had given everything.
The donations had covered most of the cost.
Luis had handed over the rest in crumpled bills and coin rolls wrapped in rubber bands.
Even the manager at the tire shop down on Powell pitched in twenty bucks and a pack of dog treats.
Now all that was left to do was wait.
Milo sat with his knees pulled up to his chest,
Hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his red hoodie.
The hood had a tiny paw print stitched on it — something Rosa had added years ago.
She said it would help him feel brave.
Luis stared at the blank TV screen across the room.
His eyes were open, but he wasn’t really seeing anything.
Just playing memories in his head like a flickering slideshow:
Rosa laughing in the kitchen.
Lucky licking Milo’s face the day they brought him home from the hospital.
That first family walk by the river, when they all believed the world was wide and good.
A door creaked open.
The vet — Dr. Ellen Sloane — stepped out, mask around her neck.
She looked exhausted.
But there was something in her face — a light that hadn’t been there before.
Luis stood.
Milo jumped up beside him, clutching his father’s hand.
Dr. Sloane smiled gently.
“He made it through surgery. He’s still groggy, but stable. We removed the mass. Early signs say it wasn’t malignant.”
Milo’s face lit up like the first morning of spring.
“Can we see him?”
“In a few minutes. He’s waking up now.”
Luis let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding for hours.
His knees buckled slightly.
“Thank you, Doc. Thank you…”
She nodded, then touched his arm.
“It wasn’t just us. That dog’s holding on because he’s loved. Dogs… they know.”
Lucky was on a heated pad in a quiet recovery room.
His side was shaved, stitched.
An IV line ran into his paw.
But his eyes opened when he heard their voices.
And that tail — weak as it was — gave the smallest thump.
Once. Twice.
Milo rushed forward and wrapped his arms gently around the old collie’s neck.
“You did it, boy,” he whispered.
“You came back.”
Luis knelt beside them.
Ran a hand over Lucky’s ear.
It was warm. Soft. Still alive.
For a long time, they didn’t say anything else.
Just sat there —
A man, a boy, and a dog who had fought too hard to let go now.
Later that evening, as the clinic prepared to close, Luis sat outside on the bench near the parking lot.
He lit a cigarette, something he hadn’t done in years.
Not since Rosa got sick.
But tonight… he needed it.
Milo sat beside him, swinging his legs.
In his lap was a small paper tray with two hot dogs from the cart — Luis had saved them from that morning.
One was wrapped for Lucky, just in case.
“Can I tell you something, Papa?”
“Of course.”
Milo looked up, serious.
“I don’t want to be rich when I grow up.”
Luis blinked.
“No?”
“I just want to be… someone who fixes things.”
“Like you.”
Luis turned his face slightly so Milo wouldn’t see the tears come so fast.
He took a long drag, then crushed the cigarette under his boot.
“That’s the best kind of man to be, mijo.”
A nurse stepped outside.
“He’s waking up again. You can come in for a minute.”
They rose together.
Before going inside, Milo unwrapped one of the hot dogs.
Tore off the top half.
Slid it into a napkin, then into his coat pocket.
“I want to feed him myself.”
Luis smiled.
“Let’s go do that.”
In the room, Lucky was still weak,
But when he saw them, his tail tapped the mat again.
Milo knelt carefully, pulled the half-hot dog from his coat.
Held it out.
Lucky sniffed.
Then — with a surprising little flick of energy — took the bite gently from Milo’s fingers.
His eyes closed as he chewed.
And for a moment, he looked years younger.
Milo grinned.
“It’s the last one we had. Papa says you earned it.”
Luis nodded.
“More than anyone I know.”
They stayed until the nurse tapped her watch.
Milo kissed the dog’s forehead.
Luis rubbed the fur behind his ears.
“Sleep well, boy,” he said.
“Tomorrow’s gonna be a better day.”
As they walked back to the truck,
The stars came out — faint and few —
But enough.
And for the first time in a long time,
The night didn’t feel heavy.
It felt like a page turning.