Page 80 of The Ballad of Us
“Well, well, if it isn't my favorite band and barista. And who is this handsome fellow?” Dr. Peterson is a man in his sixties who's been caring for the village's animals for almost four decades. He has the kind of gentle competence that immediately puts both pets and their humans at ease.
“I found him this morning, but no collar, and he’s severely underweight. He’s clearly someone's former pet.” I hope someone didn’t discard this old guy because of his age.
Dr. Peterson examines Duke. “Let's have a look at you, boy. He's underweight, having probably lost about fifteen pounds from his ideal weight. But his coat is good, his teeth are in decent shape for his age, and he's got the demeanor of a dog who's known love.” As the microchip scanner clicks softly and produces a negative beep, an emblematic sound of emptiness underscores Duke's uncertain status, deepening the feeling of him being officially unclaimed.
“Well, congratulations on your new dog, because someone is going to need to take this sweet boy home. It’s clear to me that he's already chosen his people.”
“I don't have a dog,” I start to protest, but even as I say it, I'm looking down at Duke, who's sitting between Gray and me like he's exactly where he belongs.
“You do now,” Gray says softly, and when I look at him, his expression is full of understanding. “If you want him.”
“Mrs. Chen is going to kill me. Pets weren't exactly part of our lease agreement.” Who am I kidding? I’m taking this sweet boy home and giving him the best years of his long life.
“She’ll love him. She's been complaining about not having enough creatures to spoil since her last cat passed away,” Gray says.
Dr. Peterson is already pulling supplies from various cabinets. “I'll send you home with a bag of high-quality food to help him gain weight, and we'll schedule a follow-up in two weeks. He's going to need dental work eventually, which is typical for senior dogs, but nothing urgent.”
As we walk back to the studio with Duke happily trotting between us, I think about how his unexpected arrival reminds me that new beginnings can happen, bringing change and joy into our lives. Just as Duke found us, meeting Gray was a surprise I never saw coming. I hope that welcoming Duke will help me become more hopeful. “You were about to tell me something when we arrived. About a track?” I remember suddenly.
Gray's entire face lights up. “Right. We've been debating it for weeks, but we finally agreed on the perfect album name.” He pauses dramatically. “Solid Ground.”
The title is so perfect and meaningful that I stop walking entirely. It captures everything about Gray's journey, the stability of recovery, the foundation we've forged together, and the steady footing that comes from facing your demons and choosing healing over destruction.
“Gray, I love that!” I’m profoundly moved by the band’s choice.
“It represents everything. The entire journey from the quicksand of addiction to the solid ground of recovery. I went from unstable to steady, from lost to found. But mostly, it's about building something that can't be shaken, whether that's sobriety, love, or the life we're creating together.”
Duke chooses that moment to sit down between us and look up expectantly, as if he's waiting for us to acknowledge that this conversation applies to him too—another lost soul who's found his way to people who understand what it means to heal.
“I think Duke approves.” I scratch behind his ears.
“Duke has excellent judgment,” Gray agrees. “Come on, let's go introduce him to Leslie. I have a feeling they're going to be best friends.”
As we walk back toward Main Street with our newest family member, I think about how some of the best things in life often show up when you least expect them. Gray didn't plan to meet me three years ago. I didn't mean to fall in love with a musician in recovery. I didn’t want to adopt an older dog this morning. But now that Duke is with us, I feel a sense of completeness. We hope to take our first walk together at dawn, ready to start this new chapter side by side. I picture Duke with us, excited as we are to begin this journey. Sometimes life has better plans than we do.
Sometimes love—whether romantic, familial, or the simple affection between human and animal—finds you exactly when you're ready to receive it, even if you didn't know you needed it.
The call comes at seven in the morning, jarring me from the peaceful sleep I've grown accustomed to in Rhea's arms. Marcus Webb, our A&R representative at the record label, has never been one for pleasantries or respecting time zones, but there's an urgency in his voice that immediately puts me on edge.
“Gray. ‘Solid Ground’ is fucking gold, man. This is Case in Point’s best work yet.” Marcus says that about every one of the six albums we’ve ever sent them.
I slip out of bed carefully, not wanting to wake Rhea, and pad to her kitchen where Duke greets me with his usual dignified tail wag. It's been two weeks since he joined our little family, and he's already gained back most of the weight he'd lost, settling into the role of village mascot with remarkable ease.
“That's great, Marcus. I’m glad Requiem is pleased with it,” I say quietly, scratching Duke's ears. I'm trying to process whether this is good or bad. Success always comes with the pressure to make it last.
“Gray, this is phenomenal. We have to move. Major tour—minimum of fifty cities, possibly international. Your comeback. We can’t wait.” He talks so fucking fast, it takes a moment to fully process his jumbled speech.
The familiar knot returns. “Slow down, Marcus. We haven't even discussed touring. The album hasn’t even dropped yet.”
“Exactly why we move fast. Momentum vanishes quickly. We’re going to start promoting the album in two weeks. We’ll pull out all the stops, visit all the late-night gigs, and make this the biggest album yet. Tour dates start in eight weeks and run through the end of the year. It’ll be intense. Huge payoff.”
Eight weeks.
End of the year.
As the reality settles in, dread tugs at me. Eight months away from everything that's keeping me sober and stable—Rhea, the village, and my support system. The thrill of Marcus’s call fades under the weight of what I stand to lose.
“I need to talk to the guys,” I say, but Marcus is already steamrolling ahead.
