Some dogs bark to be heard. Jeb doesn’t need to. He has his own language: the pause at a corner, the weight of his head against your chest, the way he leans against the door before you even know bad news is coming. He’s a ninety-pound black Lab with a name that sounds like a joke - Shake Shake Shake, Shake Jabutty - but what he carries is no joke at all. He carries awareness. He carries instinct. He carries the weight of knowing, sometimes before you do, which way you should be going. For years I thought I was leading him by the leash. But more and more, I’ve realized: Jeb is the one leading me.