Chapter Three #3
“Time to go home, then.” Jock scratched the back of his neck, willing the worry away. He knew it wasn’t that easy, but it could be a start. “Kent, you’re a good man. You’ve got my address for the bill, right?”
“As if I’m going to ask you for money.” Kent shrugged. “Besides, Wrench already paid, which pissed Twisted off, but I’m not getting between those two.”
“Well, that’s good, then. Thanks again. You’ve earned a client for life.”
“Why does that sound like a threat coming from you?” Kent grinned and pulled open the practice’s side door. “Let me get your truck doors open, and you can send Tank out.”
Jock finally let himself look at Maynard straight on. He was pleased with what he saw. The worst of the wounds still needed healing, but most of the lighter burns were visibly healed from when they came in three days ago.
“Good to go,” Kent called from outside.
“Tank, truck,” Jock said, holding Maynard’s leash tight. As expected, when Tank leapt up and loped outside, Maynard’s stay broke as he tried to follow him. “Maynard, with me, man. You’ll get to run and play soon enough.”
“Keep him as calm as you can.”
“Hopefully he’ll be happy with being a couch hippo for a week or so.”
“Clearly food deprived, he sure eats like those happy hippos. Gotta watch for bloat.” Kent came back inside. “I put Tank’s buckle leash on him. You should be good to take him out now.”
“I’ve got a variety of puzzle bowls. Tank figures each new one out about a week after I buy it.
” Jock ran a hand over Maynard’s head. “Tell the good doc ‘Thank you,’ Maynard. Come, with me.” He hesitated next to the truck, suddenly not sure if he could have the dog jump up.
Maynard took the decision out of his hands by hopping up on the back seat as if he’d been riding there for years.
“Good boy.” Jock fastened the lead and looked over at Tank.
“Good boy, Tanker.” Door closed, he looked back at Kent. “Seriously owe you one, man.”
“Man who works this hard to save a stray pit bull is not a man in debt to me. Honor to meet you, Jock. Y’all are going to be a good unit.”
Your unit shouldn’t have been out there, should they, Tinney?
Jock shook his head and then nodded. “Gonna be. Starts now.”
He climbed up behind the steering wheel and started the truck. Looking over his shoulder, he found Tank already lying down and feigning sleep and Maynard stretched out on the seat until the pads of his feet were touching Tank. “Okay.” He breathed deeply. “Okay.”
The ride home was unremarkable, both dogs sleeping most of the way.
He took Tank in first and secured an indignant mastiff into his kennel in the living room, then went back out and found Maynard had worked himself up into a froth, trying to climb out of the truck.
The whining was audible before he got to the truck.
Once the dog could see Jock, the volume went down, but it wasn’t until he was installed in a kennel right next to Tank that Maynard calmed the rest of the way down.
“Okay, boys. I’d planned on doing a backyard thing, but I think we’re in the house for the evening.
My nerves are all jumpy as hell.” Jock laughed.
“I’m talking to you both like you know what I’m saying.
” He reached over, opened Tank’s kennel, and pushed the door wide.
Tank sighed heavily as he climbed to his feet, giving Jock the biggest side-eye.
He went to Maynard’s kennel and stuck his nose up to the bars while Maynard did the same even as he jumped up and down.
Tank growled, just a warning, and Maynard stopped hopping like a bunny.
“Tank, don’t start any wars, okay? I’ll be right back.”
By the time he returned to the living room, Tank was splayed out against the front wall of Maynard’s kennel, while Maynard was laying right next to the bars.
But Maynard was whining, and his eyes were fixed on the hallway.
He settled somewhat after he could see Jock, but it took another of Tank’s growls to sort out his anxiety.
“Tank, let’s put these on, my guy.” That earned him another side-eye from the mastiff, but, groaning all the while, Tank got on his feet and came to where Jock was seated on the floor.
It was easy work getting the pajamas on Tank and harder work to get him back into his kennel.
Jock wanted to get the matching, although two sizes smaller, pajamas on Maynard so he could get used to the feeling.
He let Maynard out, and the pit bull made a mad dash to Tank’s kennel, where he laid on his belly facing in, looking at Tank with excited eyes. Tank pulled another growl out of his chest, and Maynard quivered.
“Let’s get this on you.” He held up the clothing and got Maynard to back up in between his knees.
It didn’t go as fast as with Tank, but it was easier than expected.
Jock got his tail arranged and fastened the final snaps, scooting backwards while Maynard ran back over to lay nose-to-nose with Tank.
He pulled out his phone to take a picture of the two dogs dressed like twins.
He was laughing so hard, the first three pictures he tried to take were unfocused and fuzzy. Finally he got a good shot and sent it to Ace, then Kent, and then after thinking for a minute to both Wildman and Gunny.
*Nice. Good dogs.*
That was from Ace.
*I don’t get dog pictures?*
That was from Wrench, who’d probably gotten a forward from Ace.
*Why am I getting dog pictures from Wrench?*
And that was from Twisted. And now Wrench is trying to one-up my Prez.
Jock blew out a stream of air. “These boys are all a little entitled. So—” He knee-walked over to Tank’s kennel. “—let’s get this going.”
One hand on Maynard’s collar, he opened the door and let Tank out.
Tank stalked stiff-legged over to where Maynard sat and laid his chin on Maynard’s shoulder.
“Not great, Tankster.” That was pretty dominant behavior.
But Maynard didn’t do anything Jock might have expected.
He whined and crept closer to where Tank stood.
Jock let go of Maynard’s collar and got to his feet.
He was close enough to intervene quickly if needed, but the dogs needed a little space from him.
Tank sniffed and lowered his head, putting his nose next to Maynard’s. Both dogs pulled in big lungfuls of air, and then it was over. Tank turned to find his favorite dog bed, with Maynard padding along directly behind him.
Which led to another round of dog pictures sent to the men as a group chat, shutting up the complaining.
***
Silly
A few hours later, the plane landed in Charlotte, and when she unlocked her phone, she found a message from Jock with an accompanying picture. Him, with Tank on one side and Maynard on the other, both dogs looking up at him with adoring expressions.
*Puppy love is so cute.*
As if he were sitting with the phone in his hand, which he probably was, his response was immediate.
*It really is. You got there okay? Hotel okay? Did you get to see where you’ll set up tomorrow?*
*Whoa, big guy. I’m on the bus from the airport to the hotel. I’ll keep you updated. Promise. I love you.*
*Love you.*
Another image message came through, and she laughed out loud at the sprawl of big dogs in one bed, legs going everywhere.
*That’s not going to work for long. Maybe put the two beds beside each other?*
He sent a smiley face, then *Tried that already, doesn’t matter which bed Tank chooses, Maynard’s laying beside him a minute later.*
*Take things slow, he said. Might have to crate them, he said. Gotta watch the resources so there’s no guarding, he said.*
*Yah, yah. I know I was a little worried.*
*Hotel. Love you. Talk soon.*
***
Jock
It felt good to have success to report to Silly when she finally landed. He could see her come online, and then as soon as the image he’d sent changed from Delivered to Read, he was ready for her texts. Way too quickly for him, she needed to shift focus to things near her.
It’s so she can check into the hotel, asshole. Give her a minute to breathe.
He looked at the dogs, piled into a ridiculous mix of mastiff and pit bull on a dog bed too small for Tank and definitely too small for the two dogs.
“At least they’re getting along okay.”
***
The house was shrouded in a stillness that weighed on Jock, broken only by the occasional creak of the floorboards and Tank’s deep, rhythmic snores from his kennel in the living room.
Jock had positioned Maynard’s crate right beside Tank’s, hoping the mastiff’s calm presence would soothe the pit bull.
During the day, it had worked. Maynard had settled after a tentative romp in the backyard, even managing a few playful bows before exhaustion took over.
But now, well past midnight, the first night home from the vet was unraveling into a battle against pain and restlessness.
A sharp, pitiful whine sliced through the dark, jerking Jock from the edge of sleep.
He sat up in bed, sheets tangled around his legs, rubbing his eyes.
“Maynard,” he muttered, swinging his feet to the cold floor.
Another whine, louder and laced with agony, twisted his gut.
He padded down the hallway in his boxers, the cool air prickling his skin.
In the living room, Tank lifted his massive head, eyes glinting in the faint streetlamp glow, while Maynard paced in tight circles inside his kennel, pajamas rumpled, burns likely throbbing beneath the fabric.