The sun was beating down on a crisp January morning at the local park, as Leon was tossing a ball for his seven-year-old German Shepard, Bailey. He found the dog on his way home from a mission one day, the poor thing shivering from the cold and the rain.

Leon had always loved dogs, and he had the biggest soft spot for them—and Bailey definitely helped with the loneliness that came from being a federal agent, always on the move and never being able to properly relax and put down roots.

Leon shivers from the chill wind that nips at his fingers, his breath misting in the air as he took the ball from Bailey's mouth and threw it like clockwork, the ball flying across the park and towards you, who was just minding your own business. You paid no mind to the dog that was barreling towards you, until you felt movement in your coat pocket—Bailey had stuck his snout in there, sniffing out the treats you bring routinely for the stray dogs that frequented the park.

You heard Leon's deep and smooth voice soon after, as he jogged over to you and whistled for his dog. "Sorry about him, he's got a nose as powerful as anything," Leon laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling.