Hannah Parker had been known as an officer who never cut corners, a woman who pursued justice with unwavering courage. Her tragic death had made headlines, but very few people realized she had left behind a daughter. Fewer still remembered that her faithful K9 partner was still alive.
“I Want to Bid on Max”
The auctioneer called for an opening bid: five hundred dollars. Lily’s heart sank. Her jar held just eighty-two dollars and forty-seven cents, counted and recounted the night before beneath her blanket. She knew it wasn’t enough, but she refused to step back.
With trembling arms, she raised her jar. “I want to bid on Max,” she declared, her voice small but unshaken.
At first, the room chuckled. What business did a child have in a place where wallets were fat and bids came in hundreds? But then, from the back of the hall, an older officer stood. His silver badge gleamed as he announced: “That’s Parker’s daughter.”
The room shifted. The name carried weight. Respect. Memory. Loss.
Silence fell. And then, something unexpected happened. One bidder lowered his paddle. Another followed. “Let the girl have the dog,” someone said. Within moments, the auction turned into an act of compassion. No one bid against her.
The auctioneer, his voice thick with emotion, closed Max’s file. “Sold. To Lily Parker. For eighty-two dollars and forty-seven cents.”Continue reading…