Dogs Outdoors

Dog Gear

Field-ready gearfor veterans and their loyal companions.

Tracking Collars

Reliable GPS collars built tough for outdoor missions.

Dog Packs

Durable packs that carry essentials for extended outdoor trips.

Harnesses designed for comfort and control in all conditions.

Harnesses

He chose the Delaware State Forest because it made no promises.

No overlooks. No markers. Just trees, weather, and time. A place that didn’t care who he used to be.

He sat in his truck longer than necessary, engine ticking as it cooled. Sam waited beside him, a yellow Labrador with calm eyes and a steady presence. The dog had been with him through crowded rooms and loud days. This was different. This was silence.

It had taken years to come here. Years of noise carefully arranged to keep the quiet away. Being alone with his thoughts had felt more dangerous than anything he’d faced in uniform. Out here, there were no distractions—only himself.

The first night, the storm came hard. Wind bent the trees. Rain hammered the tarp. His hands shook as he worked the knots, not from cold, but from memory. Sam pressed against his leg, solid and real, anchoring him to now.

He lay awake as the forest moved around them. The thoughts came, as he knew they would—faces, decisions, moments that never fully released their grip. There was nowhere to run. And for the first time, he didn’t try.

Morning brought ticks and frustration. Another problem. Another reminder that peace required effort. He handled it the way he handled everything—slowly, deliberately, one thing at a time.

By the third day, something shifted.

His pace softened. He noticed the light through the trees. The way Sam checked the woods before resting. The thoughts still arrived, but they no longer stayed. They passed through like weather.

On the final night, the forest went still. No wind. No rain. Just a small fire and the sound of Sam breathing beside him. He felt something steady settle in—not happiness, but resolve.

The woods hadn’t fixed him. They hadn’t erased anything. They had given him a place where responsibility mattered, where effort counted, and where avoidance wasn’t possible.

When he packed up, he moved carefully. Not eager to leave—just ready. He scratched Sam behind the ears.

“Good work,” he said.

The forest didn’t answer.

It didn’t need to.