Thunder had been more than just a workhorse to George. He was a companion, the kind of animal that understood things without words. The two of them had spent years working side by side, plowing fields, hauling wood, and riding across the countryside. Losing him felt like losing a piece of himself.
As the days stretched into months, George’s life became a slow, painful routine. He would wake up early, finish the chores that Thunder had once helped him with, and then sit on his porch, staring out at the empty fields. The farm was quieter now—too quiet.