Chapter 10 - TITAN
Titan retired from active security work at eleven. Still strong. Slower. More gray around muzzle. Marvin pretended not to be emotional. Failed. We held a ridiculous retirement party. Steak. Dog-safe cake. Mara came. Dr. Wells sent chew toy. Even Victor? No. Then I told story of garage. Everyone knew. But this time I told different part. Titan did not “attack” on command in blind aggression. Marvin gave release and recall cues. Titan targeted knife arm. Held. Then released when ordered. Control. That mattered because everyone online later turned him into a fantasy weapon. He was not. He was trained restraint. Then I thought about humans in story. Everyone who caused harm lacked restraint. Voss. Derek. Robbers. Northbridge executives. Even Marvin once, with information. Then one evening Titan struggled to stand. Vet diagnosed degenerative disease. Months. Maybe year. My heart broke. I said:
“He saved my life.” Marvin said: “He did his job.” Then corrected: “And he loved doing it.” We cared for him. Ramps. Medication. Short walks. Then my own mobility improved enough to use forearm crutches indoors. Wheelchair for distance. I once hated that combination because it felt like “not enough recovery.” Then Titan taught me something. A body changing does not become failure. He used ramp. Rested. Still himself. Then one morning he could not rise without pain. Decision. Euthanasia. Marvin shattered. I did too. We stayed with Titan. No dramatic last bark. Just hand on fur. Then silence. Afterward, Marvin kept leash. I kept repaired leather bag. Objects. Memory, not access. Then months later we visited garage. Why? Not closure ceremony. Bank asked whether I wanted to speak at security training. I said no. Then changed mind. We went. Same fluorescent lights. Different parked cars. I positioned wheelchair near spot.
Marvin stood beside me. No Titan. Hard. Then bank staff asked: “What should we have done differently?” I said: “Protect customer withdrawal privacy.” Then: “Do not let outside partners access account timing.” Then: “If something looks strange, call.” Specific. No inspirational speech about bravery. Then one teller asked: “Were you scared?” “Yes.” Then: “What kept you fighting?” I laughed. “The money.” Then corrected: “What it represented.” Surgery. Choice. Future. Then: “But if you’re asking whether I thought I was brave in the moment, no.” I thought I was terrified. Courage often looks different from inside. Then Marvin squeezed my hand. Asked first? He just hand? Relationship permits maybe okay, but to reinforce consent, he offered palm. I took it. Then we left.
