Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
S loan fidgeted, his nerves fixing to get the better of him.
Was it ridiculous to be so freaked out about meeting a dog? Maybe. But this was the last one in the area that was available. Oh, sure, Sloan could have gone to the shelter and picked out a dog. And there was every chance he would do just that when he got back to Santa Fe.
Add to the pack, as it were.
But he had strong opinions about adopting dogs from K-9 work, though, and Maynard was a total washout of both police tracking and cadaver dog training.
Sloan kinda felt like he got the poor guy.
He sat in the meet-up room. Lance and Abby were waiting out in the lobby, because meeting Abby would be stage two.
He’d met a couple of labs and one Malinois, but they hadn’t… fit.
The door opened, and a trainer in a polo shirt that read Second Chance K-9 brought in a leashed dog.
The big dog bounded into the room, ears flopping, tongue lolling. He was a light mahogany color with a black saddle pattern on his back, and black on his long ears .
Maynard the bloodhound had arrived.
The big old boy stopped, giving Sloan a look of houndy adoration. Then he yanked the leash right out of the handler’s grip and ran over to him, slobbering all over his jeans.
Sloan laughed. “Hey, buddy. Look at you. So handsome.” He rubbed those silky ears, amazed at how long they were.
That big, boofy head landed right in his hands, pushing hard. Like ‘right there, dad, right there’.
“Oh, he’s beautiful.” And perfect.
“He’s a turd, but we love him. He’s just…
he’s goofy. And I have to admit, I don’t foresee him getting any less goofy.
” The guy shrugged and gave him a wry grin.
“Not that I’m trying to discourage you. I mean, he’s just not Super Focus Dog.
He doesn’t want to hunt; he wants to play. And he’s kind of distractible.”
“That’s all right, isn’t it, Maynard?” He snuggled that big ruff. “That’s all right. I don’t mind distracted.”
Maynard looked at him, those big brown eyes just about as sharp as anything, and that son of a bitch bayed, the sound ringing through the room, echoing like a sonic goddamn boom.
“Wow.”
“Yeah, he, um, he totally has a voice, and he is not afraid to use it. He doesn’t bark though. You never hear him bark.”
“How is he around other dogs?”
“Loves them, loves to play. He does not do any tricks, and he doesn’t play ball or anything else. I mean, he likes to run around in a circle in the yard, and he likes to have ear scratches. This dog is a mess, but not in a bad way, you know. He’s just not meant to be a working dog.”
“Is the mean man maligning you, baby? Do you want Daddy to kick his butt? I know that you can do things.” And it didn’t matter to him one way or the other if he did or not. This dog could do nothing but poop and eat, and Sloan didn’t give a shit. He was taking this dog home.
This was his dog. He had its slobber on his pants. That meant Maynard was his. It was like a rule or something.
The attendant guy pushed himself up off the wall where he’d been leaning and watching. “I’ll let you two get to know each other.”
Sloan nodded, still watching Maynard, who was sniffing his pants. “Can I take him out on the leash?”
“Sure, if you think you can keep hold of him. He’s strong.”
That was not going to be an issue. “So am I.”
He wanted to see how Maynard walked. He wanted to introduce him to Lance. He wanted to introduce him to Abby. He wanted to show Maynard who his new family was fixing to be.
“Go for it. Don’t leave the building. And, please, if you have any questions, give me a holler.”
“I will.” He waited until the volunteer left, and then he sat back, looking hard at Maynard.
He was lanky and knobby-kneed and the polar opposite of Abby, with her sleek intelligence, all square where Abby was made of sharp triangles.
Somehow it made perfect sense.
“I think you’re going to be my dog.”
Maynard flapped his ears, jowls wiggling, slapping against his gums.
“No? How does you’re going to be my dog sound to you?”
To his utter shock, Maynard’s answer was another of those wild, echoing bays. Fuck him raw.
“I’m going to take that as a yes. Would you like to go for a walk? ”
That had Maynard tilting his head, those ears perking as well as any of them could possibly perk with all that weight.
There was the quick click of heavy nails on the tile floor, and then all of a sudden he had an armful of bloodhound dog in his lap, licking his face, tail beating furiously against his legs. Somebody knew what a walk was.
He gave the long flanks a good, hard petting before easing Maynard to the floor. “Come on, doofus. Let’s do this, shall we?”
Maynard’s response was a hysterical zoom in tightening circles until he was chasing his tail.
“Lord have mercy.” He pulled out his phone and snapped a picture, starting to send it to Lance before he remembered how monumentally ridiculous it would be. “Well, shit, Maynard. I guess we’ll just have to do the introductions in person.”
The leash was still attached to his collar, so Sloan grabbed it and headed out of the door and into the hallway.
Maynard wasn’t a bad puller, but he was random, following his nose everywhere and managing to seem like an utter dork.
Sloan was in love.
“Incoming, babe,” he warned Lance while they were still coming down the hall.
Lance stood, him and Abby facing them. “What have we got?”
“Maynard the bloodhound. Maynard, this is Lance and Abby. Be polite, now.” He let the two dogs greet, the leash loose, and their body language was amazing.
“Nice. Hey, Maynard,” Lance said, laughing as Maynard licked his hand. “This is my Abby. She’s at work right now.”
Maynard sat as if he knew what that meant, but he was vibrating, his tail going ninety to nothing .
“She’s not stressed at all. No tension against the harness,” Lance said. “So that’s good.”
“It is. Because I’m already in love with the big goofball.”
“Yeah? Here, trade me. I need to feel of him.”
“Okay.” Sloan took Abby’s harness, and she went with him, obedient as always, but she sat not too far away, staring at Lance and Maynard. “Don’t worry, girl. Dad just has to meet and greet.”
Lance took Maynard’s leash, laughing when the big hound jumped on his knees and licked him. “Oh, wow. He really is a big old boy, huh? And these ears.” Lance stroked Maynard’s ears.
“Amazeballs, huh?”
“So soft. You really like him that much?”
“I swear, Lance. He’s my doggie soul mate.” Sloan had never been one to dither. When he made a decision, he went for it.
“Well, then we’ll get him. What all do we need to do?” Lance grinned at him, holding up the leash so they could trade dogs again.
“I need to talk to the adoption team. I imagine they’ll tell me we should take him home on a trial basis first, just to make sure he and Abby get along in the house, but I think that’s just a formality.”
“You were the canine guy.” Lance chuckled. “For all that I have the Seeing Eye dog, you know training and shit.” Lance rubbed Abby’s ears, and she leaned on his leg.
“Sit, Maynard.” As soon as the big lug sat, Sloan gave him a ton of love too. “Who’s a good boy?” he said in the high-pitched tone of K-9 trainers everywhere. “Who’s a good boy?”
Lance raised his hand. “Me!”
“Oh, you are so in for it when we get home. Okay, let me take him back to the meet-and-greet room and see what’s what.” He stopped next to Lance, pressing a hand to his shoulder. “Thanks for this.”
“Hey, I was the one to say you needed him.” Lance reached up to touch his shoulder.
“You did. I can’t wait to take him camping. Okay. Be back in a bit.”
He got all the paperwork settled, and he had to grin at how many folks were stunned that a former military K-9 guy was willing to adopt a big, goofy hound who had washed out of drug-sniffing and cadaver work.
“What are you gonna do with him?” the one attendant asked.
“Go on long walks. Play ball. Maybe do some scent training for fun.” Just let him be a dog.
It didn’t get much better than that. This was his emotional support Maynard, dammit.
They were going to have so much fun together he could hardly stand it.
Lance threw the ball, knowing as long as he kept it low enough it would stay in the backyard.
Abby and Maynard chased it, Abby silent and quick, Maynard baying loud as he gallumped along.
God, they were a hoot. Abby let Maynard have the ball about one in every three turns so he didn’t get frustrated, he thought. They slept together on the couch and in the bedroom. They’d had to get bigger dog beds.
Those two were thick as thieves.
And God knew, Maynard had become a therapy dog not just to Sloan, but to all of Lance’s friends as well. Brick and Stan and Chris adored him .
It was impossible to not be joyful around the big lug. He exuded it all the time.
“They having a ball, honey?” Sloan asked as he came out. He had to have a shower when he got home. Some asshole had thrown a Coke at him while he was on a traffic stop.
“Ha-ha,” Lance said. “Very punny.”
“I amuse the fuck out of my— oof. Hey, Maynard. Did you miss me? Here you go, buddy. Abby, want a cookie?”
He was always amazed at the running commentary Sloan kept up for him so he could “see” what was happening. But then, Sloan had always been wordier than him anyway.
“Want a beer, honey?”
“If you brought one for me, sure. I waited on you.”
“I appreciate it. Man, I was sticky. Had to wash out my uniform too. It’s like I pulled a double shift at the Waffle House.”
“Ick.” That was some sticky, then.
“How’s Maynard been today?”
Lance chuckled and shook his head. “Fine. He caught a squirrel, let it go. I assume that’s what that was, anyway. They’ve had forty-seven rounds of zoomies, a couple thousand belly rubs. It’s been good.”
Sloan sat down with a thump and handed him a beer bottle. “We’re out of Shiners, so these are Coronas.”
“Works for me.” He took a deep draw from the bottle, the citrusy flavor of the beer refreshing as fuck.
“How was your day?”