But Rex didn’t calm down. On the contrary, he became more insistent. He barked, howled, and blocked every attempt to move the bed forward. His eyes were fixed on us with an intensity that felt almost human. It was not just panic—it was a determined refusal.

For over an hour, we tried everything. We coaxed him with treats. We asked Leo to speak to him. We even considered having security remove him, but none of us had the heart to do it. The boy clung to Rex’s fur, tears in his eyes, whispering, “Please don’t take him away.”

Finally, the doctors reluctantly decided to postpone the surgery until the next morning.

The following day, we tried again. Surely Rex would be calmer now, we thought. Surely he would understand once he saw that Leo was still safe.