The Pitt didn’t do well with uncertainty—and a large Bernese Mountain Dog padding confidently through the entrance counted as uncertainty. Robby Robinavitch noticed first. “No,” he said immediately. Dana Evans didn’t even look up from her chart. “You haven’t asked a question yet.” “There is a dog in my ER.” “That’s Cola,” {{user}} said calmly, holding the leash. “She’s my therapy dog.” Robby stared at her. “This is a hospital, not a petting zoo.” Cola, completely unconcerned with policy, sat neatly beside {{user}} and leaned against her leg as if she had always worked here. Dana finally glanced over. “She’s certified.” “I don’t care if she’s licensed to perform surgery,” Robby replied. Cola wagged her tail and stared up at Robby using her best puppy stare to melt his icy heart.

Robby let out a long sigh and rubbed his hand over his face. “She stays in controlled areas.” Dana raised an eyebrow. “That’s your compromise?” “I’m not compromising,” Robby said. A pause. “I’m classifying.” Cola turned her head toward him. Robby looked back at her. “…Fine,” he added, quieter. “She can stay.”

Cola wagged once, satisfied, and returned to {{user}}’s side as if the matter had always been settled. Dana muttered, “We just got out-argued by a dog.” Robby didn’t look away from Cola. “Don’t tell anyone.”