Chapter 4
JULIAN
I feel a little bit like a parent driving their kid to preschool for the first time as I near Ranger’s house for a second time, except parents know they’re getting to bring their kid back home at the end of the day.
Benny is buckled into the passenger seat of my truck, wagging his tail, his tongue lolling out as he watches the scenery fly by outside the window.
“Now, don’t be nervous,” I advise. “No pressure to click with him or anything. Just go with your gut.”
He huffs in what I assume is agreement. He’s a dog; he doesn’t have to be told twice about trusting his instincts.
“He’s pretty cute.” I grin just a little at the memory of Ranger’s cautiously hopeful, not-quite smile I finally earned by the end of our meeting yesterday.
“Not that you care.” Of course he doesn’t care.
That’s why dogs are so great. “Obviously, I’m not interested in him.
I’m just making conversation. He’s probably not gay anyway.
” Another fantastic thing about dogs: they never complain when you ramble.
His driveway comes into view, and I slow to pull in. Benny whines softly, on full alert now that he realizes we’re not just out for a drive but actually going somewhere new.
“Just be yourself, and I’m sure he’ll love you.” I put the truck in Park and pat Benny’s silky head. Last night, I gave him a nice bubble bath and spritzed him with doggy cologne so he’d be presentable for today.
I start to climb out of the truck and spot Ranger a few yards away, shirtless in the bright midmorning sun, his thin body glistening with sweat, hefting a large post upright. It takes me a few seconds to realize what he’s doing. Figgy pudding, is he building the fence by hand?
I rush around to Benny’s side of the truck, open the door, unbuckle his harness from the seat belt, and step back so he can jump out. Then I jog toward Ranger, high-stepping through the tall grass, with the dog right on my heels.
“Ranger,” I say his name carefully as we approach.
He looks over his shoulder, wiping his arm across his forehead and glancing from me to Benny, a partial smile tilting the corner of his mouth.
“I’m sorry. I hope you didn’t think I meant that you should build a fence yourself.
” I gesture to the half-erected fence. I didn’t notice it.
I was so focused on getting over to him, but there are several other perimeter posts already in place.
Has he been working on this all morning?
He shrugs, removing his work gloves and tucking them into the back pocket of his worn, dirty jeans.
He might be skinny, but he has a damn nice ass.
Not that I’m looking. That would be inappropriate and unprofessional.
But if I were looking, I’d note how taut those glorious glutes seem to be in the old pair of jeans clinging to him for dear life.
“Is this my dog?” he asks, looking curiously at Benny again, who has inched closer to him in the most polite canine way imaginable.
His nose twitches, but he’s not overly obvious about getting Ranger’s scent as he sidles up next to him.
That he went to Ranger instead of staying by my side is a good sign.
It means he’s picking up on the important things he should recognize to form a strong bond between them, namely that this is a human deeply in need of his doggy expertise.
“If the two of you click, he can be.” I smile when he offers his hand for Benny to get a proper sniff. “I’d love to give the two of you a chance to get to know each other a little, and if things feel right, I’ll show you the commands he knows and go over his care instructions.”
He shifts, the smallest amount of tension filling him, but Benny notices it too and reacts by licking Ranger’s fingers and wagging his tail. Ranger’s mouth twitches again in that almost smile, and I do an internal happy dance. They’re bonding!
It doesn’t always happen this quickly, but it’s beautiful when it does. He strokes his fingers through the dog’s fur, his shoulders relaxing little by little.
“So…you’d leave him here today? And then I’d be responsible for him from here on out?”
“If you don’t think you’re ready for that, we can work on a more gradual schedule. But I find that the strongest bonds occur when the dog understands as quickly as possible that you are his human. He has a pack bond with me and the other dogs, and we need him to know that you’re his pack now.”
He nods slowly, still petting the dog. I can practically see the wheels turning behind his eyes.
If I had to guess, he’s asking himself if he’s ready for this responsibility, if he’s going to be able to take care of a dog when he can hardly take care of himself.
“Part of the therapeutic element of having a service dog is that it helps most people form new routines. It pushes them to get out of bed every day, take a walk, stick to a meal plan. Sometimes it’s not all that easy to function on your own, but when someone’s counting on you, it can give you a reason to get better. ”
He doesn’t say anything, but he looks marginally less worried about it. I think some part of him believes what I’m saying could be true, even if he doesn’t have much trust in himself right now.
Since Ranger and Benny need a few minutes to get acquainted, I tell him I need to get Benny’s things from the truck and take my time doing so.
It was a bittersweet feeling gathering up Benny’s favorite toys this morning and portioning out a week's worth of food for him. I printed off his care instructions, which are laid out in an easy-to-understand format with strategic bullet points and a few pink highlights over parts I think are particularly important. It’s always hard to let a dog go, but there’s nothing quite like the joy of knowing how much they love having such an important job to do. A dog with a job is a happy dog.
By the time I make my way back over, holding a large cardboard box full of stuff, Ranger is kneeling on the ground, and Benny is slobbering all over his face. My heart swells at the sight of Ranger’s genuine smile.
“Is this normal?” he asks. “I thought service dogs were supposed to be very serious and business-like.”
I chuckle. “Therapy dogs are a little different, and he knows when to take his job seriously,” I assure him. “But a big part of his job is becoming your best friend. Which, it looks like, is off to a great start.”
He wipes his face off and gets to his feet.
Now that he’s fully facing me, his shirt still nowhere to be seen, I notice a metallic barbell through his left nipple.
Cheese and crust, nipple piercings are my fracking kryptonite.
I’ve never seen a nipple piercing I didn’t want to bite, but dang it, I’m a professional.
I manage to tear my eyes away from his chest and act like one.
“Why don’t we go inside, and we can talk some more about Benny?
” I turn around too fast in my excitement to tell him all about his new pooch’s schedule.
I didn’t realize how close I was standing to one of the fence posts.
With the box in my hands, I don’t even see it before I’m stumbling over it, tossing Benny’s things into the air.
Sassafras, falling on my ass hurts, and for a few seconds, I’m more focused on my bruised ego and the fact that dog toys and baggies of food are scattered around me than getting up.
Then I notice the shift in the air.