04/12/2026
Fourteen years old.
Blind.
Deaf.
Every evening —
DeLuca carried him to the porch.
K-9 Colonel was not a dog who did his job.
He was a dog who had DECIDED — completely,
permanently, without reservation —
that however many sunsets
he had left —
he was going to feel every one.
And DeLuca was going to make sure of it.
Colonel was a German Shepherd.
He had served with Sergeant Major
Frank DeLuca
of the 1st Special Forces Group
for eight years —
three deployments,
two continents,
every kind of danger —
before retiring into DeLuca's home
in Tacoma, Washington.
He had been retired for six years
when his sight went.
Four months later —
his hearing.
He was fourteen years old.
He could no longer
navigate the yard alone.
He got confused.
He got scared in the dark
the way old dogs get scared —
not with noise,
but with a specific stillness
that breaks your heart
if you know what it means.
DeLuca started carrying him.
Every evening —
without exception —
DeLuca carried Colonel
to the back porch.
He set him in his lap.
He positioned Colonel's face
toward the west.
Toward the light.
Colonel couldn't see it.
But he could feel it.
The warmth on his face.
The specific quality of evening air.
The way the temperature dropped
as the light changed.
His nose still worked.
He could smell the evening.
Every evening —
in DeLuca's arms —
Colonel lifted his face
toward the last light.
DeLuca sat with him.
Every evening.
For eight months.
On the last evening —
DeLuca carried him out
as always.
He sat in the porch chair.
He settled Colonel in his arms.
He turned his face toward the west.
Colonel lifted his face
toward the light.
One last time.
He died that night.
In DeLuca's arms.
In the chair.
Facing west.
DeLuca did not move
for a very long time.
He sat in that chair
until the light was completely gone.
Then he sat in the dark.
With Colonel.
Until the stars came.
He said at Colonel's burial —
in the backyard,
at the spot where the sunset
hit first every evening:
"He couldn't see it.
He couldn't hear me
tell him it was beautiful.
But he could feel it.
The warmth on his face.
He lifted his face every time.
Every single evening.
Eight months of evenings.
He lifted his face
toward the warmth.
That was enough.
That was everything.
Feeling the warmth.
That's all any of us need.
That's all he needed.
I just had to make sure
he could feel it.
That's the only thing
I had left to give him.
The warmth on his face.
Every evening.
I gave him that.
I gave him every one."
End of Watch. K-9 Colonel.
1st Special Forces Group.
Rest easy, old soldier.
Blind. Deaf. Fourteen.
He carried him to every sunset. Because of you.
