"For 12 years, Toby carried the same stuffed rabbit into the living room every evening and dropped it beside Frank’s chair. The toy had lost one ear, most of its stuffing, and whatever color it used to have, but Frank always acted like it was the best gift in the world. That chair was where their whole routine lived. Frank watched the news there, drank his morning coffee there, and scratched Toby behind the ears until the old dog fell asleep with his chin on the armrest. After Frank’s wife passed, the house grew quieter, but Toby kept the evenings from feeling empty. He would bring the rabbit, wait for Frank’s hand, and settle down like both of them knew the day was finished. Then Frank stopped coming home. His daughter, Ellen, tried to keep the house the same for a while. She left the chair where it was, kept the family photos on the wall, and made sure Toby’s food bowl stayed in the kitchen corner. Some nights, Toby still walked to the hallway and listened for footsteps. Other nights, he stood by the chair with the rabbit in his mouth and stared at the empty cushion. Ellen couldn’t explain it to him. She could only watch. That afternoon, the house had been quiet for hours when Toby picked up the rabbit again. He moved slowly across the rug, older now, heavier in the legs, carrying the toy like he’d done a thousand times before. Ellen stopped in the doorway when she saw where he was going. Toby reached Frank’s chair and lowered the rabbit carefully onto the seat. For a moment, he only looked at it. Then his gray face lifted toward the empty armrest, almost as if he was waiting for the hand that used to come down. Nothing moved. The old dog leaned closer and rested his head against the chair instead. Ellen covered her mouth, trying not to make a sound, because it felt like Toby wasn’t confused at all. It felt like he had brought Frank one more gift and finally understood there was nobody there to take it. He stayed like that for a long time, breathing softly against the fabric where Frank’s hand used to rest. What do you think dogs remember most when someone they love is gone?