Soon, two security officers in navy uniforms approached. The dog’s gaze flicked to them, its stance shifting to shield the soldier more firmly. A low growl rumbled, more felt than heard, steady and protective.

One officer, a man with a gentle presence, paused a few steps away. From his pocket, he drew a slim leather wallet, revealing a laminated ID card.

“It’s alright, friend,” he said softly, addressing the dog with a calm, almost tender tone, like soothing a startled child.

The dog’s ears twitched, its tail offering a single, cautious wag, yet it held its ground.

“I bet you’re on duty too, aren’t you?” the officer said, kneeling to meet the dog’s level, his voice warm and steady.

A woman in a gray sweater whispered nearby, “That’s a service dog.”