Page 11 of Rescuing Mia

Getting permission to adopt a working dog after her retirement isn’t an easy feat, but I jumped the hoops, scaled the walls, and fought tooth and nail to bring Stormy home with me.

After meeting, greeting, and getting slobbered on by Stormy, Sarah turns to me, arms open wide, ready to engulf me in a warm embrace. As she wraps me in her arms, the blessing of a loving and supportive family envelops me.

“It’s so good to see you,” Sarah exclaims, pulling back to look at me, her hands resting on my shoulders. “My baby brother is finally home. Although, you don’t look like a baby anymore. The Navy has certainly done wonders for you.”

Her laughter fills the air, a familiar sound that eases the tightness in my chest. Yet, within that moment of levity, a pang of regret sharpens inside me.

“I should’ve come home more.” The weight of missed birthdays, holidays, and countless family moments weigh down on me. “The tempo of operations, it just… It never seemed to let up. I’m sorry. I wish I’d been here more.”

But Sarah, ever understanding, shakes her head, her hands firm on my shoulders as she meets my gaze with unwavering love.

“I’ve always known your path wasn’t meant to be an easy one. My baby brother went off to save the world.” Her voice is soft but filled with conviction. “We missed you, of course, every single day, but there was never any doubt in my mind that you were doing exactly what you needed to be doing. You’re a hero by nature. A protector by choice. Just like Dad. Your duty, your service—it’s bigger than us. I couldn’t be prouder.”

Her words, meant to console me, do more than assuage my guilt. They remind me of the unbreakable bond we share, one that neither distance nor time can weaken. In her eyes, I see not just forgiveness for not coming home more often but an unwaveringbelief in the choices I’ve made, a belief that carries the weight of home with it.

I stand still while she gets a long look at me.

“Look at you, all filled out. Standing several inches taller. You packed on muscles where I remember scrawny arms, and you carry yourself with a confidence that’s… Well, it’s devastating, really.” Her smile widens, teasing yet sincere. “You left a kid and returned a man. I bet you have women swooning left and right, weak in the knees whenever you’re around. How many hearts have you left fluttering in your wake?”

“Well…” I can’t lie.

Women love a man in uniform, but they crave the mystique surrounding a U.S. Navy SEAL even more. I can walk into a bar, snap my fingers, and five women will drop their panties before I have time to blink.

How’s that going to change now that I’m separated from the Navy and no longer carry the mystique of being a team guy?

“I don’t know what I said, but the look on your face is priceless.”

Her laughter rings out, light and joyful, yet there’s a trace of awe in her voice, a sister’s pride in witnessing the transformation from the boy she once knew to the man standing before her now. Sarah pulls me into another hug.

“I’ve missed you so much.”

“Welcome home, Rigel,” Mark chimes in, clapping me on the back, the force of it reverberating through my body. “It’s been too long.”

That lump in my throat grows larger as I look at their smiling faces. The warmth of their love and acceptance washes over me. Then it hits me just how much I’ve missed them, how much I’ve missed this place, and the sense of peace it brings.

“It’s good to be home,” I manage to say, my voice thick with emotion. The words feel inadequate to express the depth of my feelings. “I’ve missed you both so much.”

Sarah’s eyes fill with tears, and she pulls me in for a fourth or fifth hug—honestly, I’ve lost track—her arms tighten around me again.

“We’re so proud of you.” Her breath is warm against my ear. “For everything you’ve done, for everything you’ve sacrificed. But I’m even more proud of you for knowing it was time to call it and focus on yourself.”

“It wasn’t an easy decision—leaving the Navy.” The words feel heavy on my tongue. “But it was time; time to figure out what comes next.”

“And you too.” Sarah crouches down to pull Stormy into a hug. “You’re a retired team dog now. No more bullets. No more jumping out of planes or riding those dingy things…”

“RIBs,” I interrupt, but I do so with a smile. “We call them RIBs: rigid inflatable boats.”

“Well, no more of that scary war stuff. Nobody’s going to be shooting at you here. You’ve got the whole place to explore and be the dog you were meant to be. You can chase butterflies, run through the vineyard, and fetch all the balls you want. Whatever you want.”

“You know, team dogs are really happy doing what they do.” Her comments make me feel bad about the last seven years as Stormy’s handler.

“Don’t listen to her.” Mark smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners, the lines etched into his skin a testament to the years of laughter and love he’s shared with my sister. “We’re proud of you and thankful for your service. Stay as long as you need. We’ll keep the coffee hot and the wine flowing.”

“Thanks, guys. I appreciate it more than you know.” A sense of contentment settles over me, and the tension in my muscles eases.

As we make our way inside, Stormy follows close behind. Nose twitching, tail wagging, she’s soaking up all the new sights and smells. Over the past seven years, her presence has been a constant comfort.

I can’t help but feel excited for the journey ahead, but I wish Stormy could come with me. I may be leaving behind the familiar routines of the Navy and the teams, but I’m heading toward something new, something incredible.

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