Page 32 of Roughing the Player
Chapter 9
Brock
A WEEK AFTER TRAINING CAMP ENDS,I head to the kennel to pick up my best bud. Going by the cleanliness of the place and the healthy-looking, happy dogs, the place is run professionally. So, no complaints there. But Butch being caged up for most of his day, even if it was for his own good, doesn’t sit right with me.
As soon as he spots me, he does his wiggly-butt dance.
“Hey, bud, how you doing?”
“Woof.”
“Yeah, I’m here to spring you. Did you miss me?” More rump-shaking tells me he does.
Rather than bring the spiffy Porsche Cayenne the Outlaws gave me, I drove my SUV which arrived at training camp, no worse for the wear, a couple of days ago. Not only does it have Butch’s very own seatbelt, but he’s familiar with its smell. So even though he’s in a strange, new city, hopefully, he’ll think of it as home. After settling his bill and thanking the staff, I snap him into the car’s restraint and plug Ellie’s address into the GPS. Soon we’re flying down the highway on a bright, sunny day. With my best friend sitting in the back, slobbering all over the seat, everything’s right as rain.
“They treat you good back there, bud?”
His gaze narrows with reproach. “Rawr.”
“Yeah, I can see they starved you to death.” He’s actually gained a couple of pounds. No wonder. Except for two scheduled outings a day, he wasn’t running around. But his coat’s healthy and his eyes are bright, so the place did their job of keeping him healthy and well fed.
“Soon you’ll have a new backyard to explore. With trees and squirrels.” I have no idea if Ellie’s backyard has such critters, or even trees, but it can’t hurt to mention them. “You’ll like that, boy, won’t you?”
“Aaaaooooo.” Yeah, he’s happy to have been sprung. Or maybe he’s just happy to be with me.
I fire up the audio and find his special song, “Who let the dogs out?” and soon, we’re howling along with the tune.
Forty minutes later we arrive at Ellie’s house which sits on a corner lot. Not big by any standards, but extremely well kept. The lawn’s mowed, the hedge’s manicured and the rows of flowers in front of her home bloom in profusion.
Holding tight to Butch’s leash, I walk up the path to the front door. I barely have time to knock before the door swings open to reveal Ellie standing on the other side and an older version of the woman I knew as her mother next to her. Both are wearing aprons. The scent of something yummy hits me—apples if I’m not mistaken.
“Brock,” Ellie’s breathless voice surprises me. Did she sprint for the door? Or is it something else?
I nod to both of them. “Ellie. Mrs. Adams.”
“It’s Mrs. Jensen now, Brock, but please call me Ruth. Come in.”
I wipe my feet on the welcome rug and turn to Butch. He’s a pure breed pit bull, so he can appear a little intimidating. But I’ve trained him well. “Wipe your paws, bud.”
Tongue hanging out, Butch swipes at the welcome mat. “Good boy.”
Ellie smiles and Ruth outright laughs. “What a well-mannered dog.”
“Thanks. He’s very gentle.” I reassure them. I don’t want them thinking Butch is a threat of any kind.
“I can see that,” Ruth says. “I made something for him. It contains eggs, peanut butter, and whole wheat. Is it okay if I give it to him?”
The tension I’d been holding eases out of me. If she’s gone through the trouble of cooking for Butch, he’s going to be all right. “He loves peanut butter.”
She retreats to the kitchen and returns with a bone-shaped treat. As soon as he sees it, Butch’s eyes light up.
“Sit,” I command. When he does, I praise him. “Good boy.”
She extends her hand with the treat. As if he knows he must be on his very best behavior, he very gingerly takes it from her fingers. But once it’s in his mouth, two bites and it’s gone.
“He loves it, thank you.”
“We baked some apple pie. Would you like some?” Ellie says smiling.
