Page 8 of Home Changes
“What are you doing here, boy?” Chester growled, voice rough from years of hard living. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the military?”
Seth kept his tone steady, patient. “No, Dad. I’m retired now. I was here just a couple of days ago, remember?”
Chester frowned, eyes narrowing. “Of course, I remember.”
But Seth could tell from the blank look in his father’s eyes that he didn’t.
“What the hell is that?” Chester pointed toward Gomer.
“This is my military working dog. He’s retired now, so he’ll be staying here with us.”
“Dogs don’t belong in the house,” Chester snapped. “You can put him out in the barn.”
“Dad, this one belongs in the house. He’s a drug detection dog and one of the best trackers in Europe.”
Chester crossed his arms and looked down at Gomer, who sat calmly beside Seth, his ears forward, posture obedient and proud.
“Then why the hell ain’t it in Europe?”
“He’s got some arthritis. They’re putting him out to pasture because he’s slowed down.”
Chester’s arms fell to his sides as he stared at the dog. His voice dropped, quieter now. “They do that to dogs and humans. Slow down, and the world just forgets about you. Leaves you behind. What’s his name?”
“Gomer.”
Chester snorted. “What in the name of muddy water would you call a dog that for?”
Seth grinned, remembering having the same thought when he’d first heard the name.
“I didn’t name him, Dad. The Air Force did.”
“Well, then, the Air Force is stupider than muddy water.”
“If you say so, Pops.”
“Well, I do,” Chester muttered, then added, “I suppose you want me to be nice to it now, don’t you?”
Seth nodded once. “Well, sir, I would appreciate it.”
Chester reached down and gave Gomer a rough pat on the head. “Come on. I’m hungry. You probably could do with a bite.” He cast a look back over his shoulder at Seth. “You can fix your own food.”
Seth rubbed the back of his neck and laughed. “Yes, sir. I’ll do that.”
He grabbed his backpack and the large bag of dog food he’d picked up in Rapid City, slinging both over his shoulder. Once inside, he dropped them near the entryway and headed for the kitchen, where he froze in the doorway.
Chester was sitting at the table, breaking offchunks of sharp cheddar and feeding them to Gomer one piece at a time.
“Dad, I’ve got dog food for him. You’re gonna spoil him giving him people food.”
“You said he was put out to pasture,” Chester said without looking up. “Seems to me that pasture ought to be lush. All us old cantankerous farts want a lush pasture. Whether we get it or not.”
Seth rolled his eyes. “Just don’t give him too much of that, Dad. I don’t want him to get sick.”
Chester reached for another piece of cheese. “No promises. You just go tend to you,” Chester said, waving Seth off like he didn’t have a care in the world. “I’ve had dogs before. I know how much is too much.”
Seth didn’t argue. He knew better than to push when his father had that look in his eye.
He went to the sink, turned on the faucet, and washed his hands. Through the window, he caught sight of Ken’s cruiser easing down the gravel drive.
