6 | The Bloodline Nobody Told Me About
The private's name was Delgado, and he was in the courtyard behind the veterans' home, hosing down the dog runs.
He straightened up when he saw me coming.
"Ma'am," he said.
"Everything all right?"
"I need to ask you something," I said.
"About Rex.
You said he was donated to the home.
Who donated him?"
Delgado turned off the hose and wiped his hands on his pants.
"The paperwork's in the office," he said.
"But I was here when he came in.
It was an older gentleman.
He had a cane, and he was upset.
He said he couldn't take care of the dog anymore because he was moving into assisted living."
"Did he give a name?"
Delgado shook his head.
"He said he was a veteran, so they took the dog.
That's all I know."
"Did he say anything about where the dog came from?"
Delgado thought about it.
"He said the dog came from good stock," he said.
"He said his friend bred shepherds after the war, and this one was the last of the line."
My heart started to pound.
"The last of the line," I repeated.
"Yes, ma'am.
He said the bloodline went back to a K-9 in Vietnam.
He was real proud of that.
He said the dog's grandfather was a hero."
I sat down on the bench by the dog runs, and my knees felt weak.
"Delgado," I said, "does Rex have a microchip?"
"He does.
We scan him every month when the vet comes."
"Can you scan him for me?
Right now?"
Delgado looked at me oddly, but he nodded.
He went inside and came back a few minutes later with a handheld scanner.
He ran it over Rex's shoulder blades, and the scanner beeped.
"Got it," he said.
"You want me to read it off?"
"Please."
Delgado looked at the screen.
"Breeder's name is listed as M.
Dregeany," he said.
"Address in Columbus, Georgia.
Registered in 2015."
I had to put my hand over my mouth.
"Ma'am?"
Delgado said.
"Are you all right?"
"That's my father," I said.
"M.
Dregeany is my father."
Delgado's face went still.
"I don't understand," he said.
"Neither do I," I said.
"But I'm going to find out."
I went back inside and found Harold still sitting in room 114, the flag in his lap and the letter in his hands.
Rex was lying at his feet now, his head resting on Harold's shoe.
"Harold," I said, "I need to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me."
He looked up.
"Did my father ever breed dogs?"
Harold frowned.
"He did," he said slowly.
"After the war.
He had a female shepherd, and he bred her with a dog from the unit.
He kept one of the puppies.
He named him Rex, same as the first one."
"Why didn't he ever tell me?"
Harold shook his head.
"I don't know," he said.
"Maybe he thought it would hurt too much.
That first Rex, that dog was everything to him.
When Sheba died, and he took the blame, I think something in him broke.
The new Rex was his way of keeping that dog alive."
I looked down at the dog at Harold's feet.
"And this Rex," I said.
"The one here.
The breeder's name is my father's.
That means this dog is from his line."
Harold's eyes widened.
"How is that possible?" he said.
"I don't know yet," I said.
"But I'm going to call my mother.
She'll know."
I stepped out into the hallway again and dialed.
She answered on the second ring.
"Mom," I said, "did Dad breed dogs?"
The silence on the other end of the line told me everything.
"Who told you that?" she asked.
"It doesn't matter," I said.
"I need to know the truth."
She sighed.
"He bred the last litter in 2015," she said.
"Just before he got sick.
He sold the puppies, but he kept one.
He said he was going to give it to someone who needed it."
"Who?"
"He never told me," she said.
"He just said it was a debt he owed."
I hung up and stood in the hallway for a long moment.
My father had kept the bloodline alive.
He had bred a dog, and he had given it away.
And now that dog was curled at the feet of the man who had ruined his career.
I walked back into room 114 and looked at Harold.
"Harold," I said, "I think my father sent you more than a flag."
He looked at me, and then at the dog, and his face changed.
"You don't think—"
"I do," I said.
"I think this is the dog he meant for you."
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Harold's hand dropped to Rex's head, and the dog lifted his chin and let out a soft whine.
And for the first time, I saw Harold smile.
