Page 90 of Doing Life

“Cool. If we did that, then I could do some scent training with Maynard, and there’s all those food smells around, so it’ll make it even better.”

Lance grinned, shook his head. “You are having fun with that, aren’t you? You do know that he flunked out of all of his training?”

“Hey! Flunked is a harsh word,” Sloan growled a little bit, and he could hear Maynard coming up to him with his whole ‘dad, dad, what’s the matter, dad?’ thing.

He also noted that Abby was not concerned.

“I’m sorry. What would you like me to say instead of flunked?”

“Maybe he was just not ready to be a cadaver dog yet. Or a drug-sniffing dog.”

Oh, Lance couldn’t wait to hear this. “Not ready. He just needed a little more time.”

“Well, yeah, kinda. People mature at different rates, so do dogs. Maybe he’s just a late bloomer.”

Personally, Lance thought that Maynard’s job on this earth was to be Sloan’s dog. He was particularly apt to that job, and the good Lord had assured that when Sloan was ready, Maynard had come bounding into his life and damn the torpedoes.

“I can see that. And obviously, he’s having fun smelling things.”

“Well, sure, I mean, he’s a scent hound, right? He needs to have something to do, and smelling is it. If nothing ever comes of it, and nothing probably will, that’s good with me. It makes him happy. It’s fun.”

And that made Sloan happy, and that was enough for Lance. “That sounds like a perfect evening, honey. I want pepperoni, sausage and onions on my pizza, and we can play find the stinky thing with your boy.”

“Cool.” Sloan kissed his nose, making him jump, whichmade Sloan laugh. “Sorry, baby. I thought you heard me get up. I’m gonna order pizza, but I need my phone.”

“Oh, sure, babe.” He rubbed Abby’s ears when she leaned on him, and then he grabbed the ball and tossed it again while Sloan ordered supper.

The more he thought about it, the more he thought he could totally do Sloan’s backyard in the snow in Santa Fe.

Chapter Twenty-Five

“How’s it going, Sloan?”

Sloan looked at Dan, who had brought Chris to physio today. Sloan had the day off, so he’d driven Lance to yoga and stretching for his leg.

“Good. It’s good. I have a dog.” He knew Dan knew that. The guy adored Maynard, but he had to say it. “And Lance is really improving, both physically and mentally, and I’m so damn proud of him.”

“That’s awesome, man. Want to sit and wait with me?”

“Uh… sure.” He headed to the big cooler that held juice and water and Cokes. Sloan left three bucks in the box on top, then pulled out a Dr Pepper. “What do you want, man?”

“Sprite, please.”

“You got it.” He grabbed that too, carefully handing it to Dan so as not to fizz it up. Sprite always exploded when it opened.

“Thanks.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Yeah, it’s good. I just wanted to see how you were doing with things.”

Sloan blinked. Dan was a licensed therapist. He always had questions. “Like what?”

“Work, mainly.” Dan grinned a little. “I know, it’s a shocker. But I think Lance is doing great, so you must be great with him.”

“I am.” He sat across from Dan in the little lounge area. “I still don’t need a therapist.”

“Everyone needs a therapist.” Dan winked, but then he studied Sloan. “I hear you got shot at.”

---