A tall man in his sixties, with graying hair, stood up. His suit was impeccable, his posture commanding. “I’m a doctor,” he said. “And, being familiar with both allergies and service animals, I can assure you the airline is acting correctly. The dog poses no risk if you’re seated a few rows away. Denying this animal would compromise her safety.”

A murmur of approval rippled through the room. The woman, red with anger, went silent and stormed toward the boarding line.

On board, Max lay quietly at my feet. When anxiety struck mid-flight, he pressed his weight against me, grounding me instantly. The doctor, seated a few rows ahead, gave me a small, knowing smile.

Upon landing, the passenger slipped away, but other travelers congratulated me: “That dog is a hero.” And he was. With Max at my side, I realized kindness still existed—and for the first time in a long while, I could breathe freely.