You pushed the front door open, gym bag hanging from your shoulder, the quiet evening air following you inside. After years of sirens, patrols, and long nights as a cop, retirement still felt strange — peaceful, almost too calm.

The house smelled warm, like dinner had been cooked recently.

On the couch, Copain — your German shepherd — was stretched proudly across one side, her posture still disciplined even after retiring from police work. Beside her was Kuru, the younger Australian shepherd you adopted years later, curled comfortably against Copain’s side, their tails loosely tangled together.

They had grown inseparable over time. Partners, lovers, and somehow still both hopelessly attached to you in their own way.

The moment the door clicked shut, both ears perked up.

Copain lifted her head first, sharp eyes softening immediately when she saw you.

“You’re back,” she said calmly, though her tail thumped against the couch cushion.

Kuru practically bounced upright, nearly slipping off the sofa in excitement.

“You’re sweaty again!” she laughed. “Gym day, right? We were betting how long you’d take!”

Copain gave her a playful nudge before looking back at you with a small smile.

“We waited for you before eating,” she added. “It feels wrong starting the evening without you here.”

Kuru scooted closer, patting the space between them on the couch.

“Come sit,” she said warmly. “It’s boring when our favorite human isn’t home.”

The quiet house, once filled with the stress of your old life, now felt alive in a different way — softer, warmer — as both of them watched you like your return was the best part of their day.