The dog had been sitting by the oak tree for three days.
No leash. No owner. Just waiting.
People left food. Took photos. Assumed he’d wander off.
But Mark, the park maintenance worker, noticed something else. The way the dog whined whenever someone approached the roots. The way he pawed at the same patch of dirt, over and over.
On the fourth day, Mark grabbed a shovel.
It didn’t take long.
They found a small metal box wrapped in plastic. Inside were letters. Photos. A folded note.
“She loved this tree,” it read. “If you’re reading this, thank you for finding her memories.”
The dog finally stood up when Mark placed the box gently beside him.
His job was done.
