Beau wouldn’t leave the baby’s side. He’d plant himself beside the crib, eyes sharp, tail still. If Zoey whimpered, he’d nudge the crib with his nose. At night, he’d patrol the hallway, padding softly from the nursery to our bedroom and back again.
At first, we thought it was sweet — like he believed Zoey was his puppy to protect.
“He doesn’t sleep anymore,” she whispered one night. “It’s like he’s on duty all the time.”
Still, we brushed it off. Maybe it was just an adjustment period.
That was before Claire entered the picture.
