Page 19 of Keeping Guard
With his tail wagging like a flag in a hurricane, the dog tried to cross the console. “No, you can’t sit in my lap while I’m driving.” Noah pushed him back. “You don’t have any respect for personal space, do you?”
Lucky tried to climb on his lap again. “Dumbass dog. Get back in your seat.” He lowered the passenger side window halfway, and that did the trick. Lucky stuck his head out the window and kept it there the rest of the way to Operation K-9 Brothers.
He found Jack hosing down a kennel. “Need help?”
“Yeah, you can clean the last three. Put Lucky in this one while you work.” He stepped out of the kennel, handing Noah the hose. “I’ve got some paperwork I need to get done. When you’re finished, we’ll put the dogs back in their homes.”
Noah glanced around. “Where are they now?”
“In the playpen.”
“They have a playpen?”
“Yeah. I give them a little time together to play each day while I clean their kennels.”
After Jack left, Noah put Lucky in the just cleaned kennel, then started hosing down the next one. The sooner he got this done, the sooner he could check on Peyton. Or maybe he should stay out of her life. The last thing she needed was a screwed-up man who had nothing to offer. Not that he was looking for a relationship, he was just worried about her. Needed to know she was okay.
Lucky had his nose pressed against the fence, watching Noah’s every move. “Nice place, huh?” He didn’t know what training therapy dogs involved, but Jack had a topnotch operation going. The individual kennels were large, with the concrete part under a roof for shade, then a grassy area giving the dogs plenty of room to roam around. Each kennel had dog beds on frames, lifting them about a foot off the floor. The food and water bowls were attached to the kennel fencing. He assumed that helped keep ants out of their food.
He’d thought Jack would get on his ass for taking off, but he hadn’t said a word. Noah wished he had, getting the lecture he knew was coming over with. What magic his commander thought being here, cleaning kennels, would accomplish was a mystery.
Soon, he would have to return to his team, and just thinking about another deployment woke up the biting ants. What if he made another deadly mistake? That would be the end of him.
Hello, darkness...
“Stop it,” he muttered when the words to Simon and Garfunkel’s “The Sounds of Silence” streamed through his mind. His team got a kick out of his always coming up with a song that fit any situation, and he’d had fun doing it. Not so much anymore.
At the same time he finished cleaning the kennels, Jack returned. “I’m suspicious of your perfect timing,” he said.
Jack chuckled. “You should be. Let’s get the dogs back in their homes, then we’ll spend some time working with Lucky.”
Still nothing about him taking off earlier. Noah eyed his friend. Was he doing that on purpose, waiting for Noah to bring it up? If so, Jack was going to have a long wait.
They got the dogs back in their kennels, then Noah, with Lucky on his leash, followed Jack to a large fenced in area. “How’s a therapy dog different from a service dog?”
“Good question. Service dogs are trained to perform tasks that their handler can’t do. Pick up things, open doors, things like that. A therapy dog is trained to provide emotional support. They go to places like hospitals and retirement homes, and spend time with people. In our case, though, we’re training them for our brothers and sisters, and they’ll provide that support for a specific person, especially ones suffering from PTSD.”
“Okay, but what if a person needs a dog that can do both those things?”
“And some do. We’ll do extra training when necessary.”
“What does it cost to have a therapy dog?”
“Nothing, and I’m hoping to keep it that way.” Jack glanced around him, and Noah could see the pride in his eyes at what he’d accomplished. “It’s all about sponsorships to cover the cost, and I work hard to keep the money coming in. Not my favorite part of all this, but most of our brothers and sisters can’t afford the cost of one of these dogs. I don’t want that to keep them from getting the help they need.”
Jack had found his calling, and Noah envied him. The man they’d loaded into a helicopter, not sure if he would live, had created a new life that gave him purpose. Add to that he’d found Nichole. During the little bit of time Noah had spent with them, it had been obvious that they loved each other.
“How’d you meet Nichole?”
“That’s a funny story. I’ll tell you over a beer later,” Jack said, grinning.
Noah bet it wouldn’t beat how he’d met Peyton. Not that anything was going to happen with her. And not that he was going to share his funny meet story because he was never going to see her again, a decision he made at seeing the way Jack grinned when thinking of his fiancée. Noah didn’t have it in him to make a woman happy. He didn’t know Peyton well, but he did know she deserved a man who could make her smile.
“The first thing you need to remember is that these dogs aren’t pets,” Jack said. “That includes Lucky. They’re not military dogs trained to go to war, but they are working dogs with a job to do.”
“Got it.” That worked for him since he had no desire for a pet.
“You will be taking him home with you each night—”
