Page 87 of Forbidden Whispers

“Can I help you?” he asked. Noah guessed him to be about sixteen or seventeen years old. His sandy brown hair was long, flopped low over his forehead, and he kept flipping his head to one side to get it out of his eyes.

“Yes,” Noah said. “I believe he belongs here.” He lifted his leash hand above the counter and the boy stepped forward to peer over the top of it. Then his eyes grew wide.

“Boon-doggle? No way! Where’ve you been, buddy?” The young man came out from behind the counter, and Boon’s tail instantly started wagging.

The boy squatted down beside Boon who began nuzzling and licking his face.

“Easy, boy. Easy.” He chuckled, standing back up.

The boy’s gaze shifted between Maggie and Noah, but settled on Noah who was still holding Boon’s leash. “Sorry, it’s just that he’s been missing for days. I somehow lost him when I stopped in here late Friday night to check on one of our newest arrivals. My parents were super ticked off at me. They own this place. My mom’s working in the back with the dogs right now. I’m Bryan by the way,” he added, extending his hand to each of them. “So, where’d you find Boon?”

Maggie and Noah exchanged a look. Then Noah gave Bryan a sheepish grin. “I’m not certain, but it’s possible that I may have stolen him.”

Bryan frowned in confusion. “What?”

Noah briefly explained his temporary amnesia situation without going into too much detail. “I know that I was outside this shelter sometime Friday night. And somehow, I met Boon then.”

Bryan rubbed a hand along his jaw. “Well, that lines up with when he went missing. I was on duty Friday night. We’d just gotten in a particularly anxious rescue, a puppy. So, I stopped by to check on him. I let Boon and a couple of the other big dogs out to do their business in the fenced-in yard out back. When I was ready to leave, I went to get them all, but Boon was missing. I freaked out!”

“I’m sorry,” Noah said.

“No worries, bro,” Bryan said. “At least he’s back now, safe and sound.”

“So, I take it Boon is a rescued dog then?” Maggie said, as she slowly ran her hand over Boon’s soft head. The dog lifted his chin and closed his eyes in appreciation.

“Yeah, yeah,” Bryan said. “We got him in a few weeks ago.”

“What’s his story?” Noah said. “He seems like a smart, well-behaved dog. How did he end up here?”

“It was kind of a strange fluke,” Bryan said. “He was originally being trained as an emotional support dog for people dealing with severe anxiety.”

“You can get a trained service dog for that?” Maggie asked.

“Oh sure,” Bryan said. “If the dog’s owner starts showing signs of an impending anxiety attack, the dog can be trained to get medicine or bring the owner a telephone to call for help. They’re also trained to do stuff like cuddle up next to them or start doling out kisses. It often helps stop the attack and allows the owner to relax and feel safe.”

Maggie exchanged a look with Noah and burst out laughing. “Well, that explains a lot!”

Noah looked back at Bryan. “You said Boon was originally being trained to be a service dog?”

“Yeah,” Bryan looked down at Boon. “Unfortunately, he was the victim of a perfect storm of bad luck.”

“What do you mean?” Noah asked.

“Well, more than half of service dog candidates don’t complete their training. And Boon fell into that category. He was overly sensitive to humans under stress, causing him to overreact. And he also would get aggressive with certain people that he didn’t take a liking to, for seemingly random reasons.”

“Maybe they just weren’t nice people,” Noah murmured, thinking of Nick and Johnny.

Bryan shrugged. “I dunno. Anyway, after he flunked out of the program, he was sent to a service dog organization with an adoption program for failed service dogs. He got adopted pretty quick. But he was only in his new home for a few months when the owner died unexpectedly. Boon was brought here, and we were making arrangements to send him back to the original adoption organization. There’s a big demand for failed service dogs because of all the training they receive.”

Maggie had been absently running her hand along Boon’s silky coat, but she stopped and looked up at the young man. “So, Bryan, does Boon have to go back to the service dog organization for adoption?”

The young man frowned. “Huh?”

Maggie locked eyes with Noah and he knew what she was thinking. Because he was thinking the same thing.

“What we mean is, what if we’d like to adopt Boon?”

“Ohhh,” Bryan said with another toss of his hair. “Lemme ask my mom.”

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