She went to bed earlier than usual, but was restless. Sleep came eventually, though it brought no peace. Her dreams filled with fragments of memory: Zeus’s tail wagging, Jade’s quiet voice, children’s faces watching, the feeling of walls cracking that she couldn’t repair no matter how hard she tried.
Despite her fitful dreams, she stayed asleep all night, though she didn’t feel rested when she awoke.
The weekend passed in a blur of restless energy and too much thinking. By the time Tuesday morning arrived, Maddox had convinced herself she was ready with the demo planned, Zeus sharp, and expectations managed.
But she wasn’t ready.
She arrived at Riverside Elementary fifteen minutes early, Zeus already focused beside her in the parking lot. The spring morning was bright and clear, the kind of day that made the school’s cheerful yellow exterior look almost offensively optimistic.
Jade’s car pulled in three minutes later. Maddox watched her gather materials from the passenger seat and saw she was wearing casual clothes—dark jeans, soft green sweater, her hair pulled back in a practical ponytail—not the usual professional attire from the office. She looked approachable and warm, like someone kids would trust immediately.
Maddox bit the inside of her cheek and narrowed her eyes.
“Morning,” Jade said, crossing the parking lot with an easy smile. “Ready for this?”
“Zeus is ready.” Maddox opened the back of her K-9 vehicle, gathering equipment. “That’s what matters.”
“You’re ready too.” Jade’s tone held quiet confidence. “You’re good at this.”
Maddox didn’t respond, just shouldered her bag and headed for the entrance. Zeus fell into step behind her immediately, his attention shifting into work mode.
The gymnasium smelled like floor wax and lunch trays from down the hall. Fifty-some second and third graders sat cross-legged on the polished wood floor, their energy barely contained by the three teachers trying to maintain order. The moment Maddox and Zeus walked in, the noise level doubled.
“A police dog!”
“Look how big he is!”
“Can we pet him?”
Maddox caught the lead teacher’s eye—Mrs. Patterson, according to her nametag—and received a grateful nod. She moved to the front of the assembled kids, and the room gradually quieted as children watched with wide eyes.
“Good morning,” Maddox said, her voice carrying without shouting. “I’m Officer Shaw, and this is my partner, Zeus.”
Zeus sat on command, still and focused despite fifty pairs of eyes locked on him.
“Zeus is a Belgian Malinois,” Maddox continued. “He’s trained to help me keep people safe, but before we show you what he can do, we need to talk about safety rules around working dogs.”
She explained the basics, and the kids listened with surprising attention, asking questions that Maddox answered clearly and directly.
Jade stood to the side, watching but not interfering. Maddox was acutely aware of her presence and the way she observed thedemo. Maddox pushed the thought of being watched and seen aside and continued.
“Zeus responds to both verbal commands and hand signals,” she said, then demonstrated, each command executed with precision. Zeus’s focus was unshakeable.
The children were mesmerized.
“Now we’ll show you how Zeus helps me find things,” Maddox said. She pulled a training sleeve from her bag. “Mrs. Patterson, can you hide this somewhere in the gym while Zeus and I wait outside?”
The teacher took the sleeve with obvious delight. Maddox and Zeus stepped into the hallway, and she could hear the excited whispers as the kids watched their teacher hide it.
A small voice asked from inside, “How does he know where to look?”
“Zeus has an amazing sense of smell, about forty times better than ours. He can smell things we can’t even imagine,” Jade said.
A pause, then, “Does that mean he can smell what we had for breakfast?”
Laughter rippled through the gym, including Jade’s.
“Probably,” Jade said. “That’s why we always want to be kind to working dogs. They notice everything.”
