It’s an emotional moment under the old tree. Rusty, small and scruffy with big, pleading eyes, knows what’s coming. KT kneels beside him, soft blanket in hand, whispering gentle words to soothe him. But Rusty understands too much — the tree, the quiet spot, the soft hush in KT’s voice.
Rusty’s tail thumps the ground once, then stills. He looks at the blanket, then up at KT. His ears droop, and a low, broken whimper escapes his throat. KT’s eyes shine with tears as he reaches to lift Rusty gently, cradling him like he’s done a hundred times before — but this time, Rusty squirms.
With a tiny cry, Rusty wriggles free and pads clumsily toward KT’s chest, burying his head against the only safety he knows. He paws at KT’s shirt, nose pressed into warm skin, as if begging not yet, please not yet. His small body trembles with soft sobs that sound almost human.
KT wraps his arms around Rusty, voice cracking as he whispers apologies into Rusty’s fur. He tries to steady his own shaking hands while Rusty clings tighter, pressing closer with desperate trust only animals know how to give. The blanket slips to the ground, forgotten.
The sun filters through the leaves above, warm and cruel. KT’s heart aches as Rusty’s soft cries echo in the stillness. He knows it’s the kindest thing — to let Rusty drift off without pain, under his favorite tree. But Rusty doesn’t understand mercy. He only understands love, and in that moment, all he wants is to stay in KT’s arms forever.
So Rusty refuses sleep, refuses goodbye, pressing his tiny body closer, as if sheer love could hold back the quiet darkness waiting under the old tree’s shade.
