wondering if dogs can get affected by someone’s moods. I’d hate to make a dog depressed.”
Julian sends me an encouraging smile. “I honestly don’t think that’s even possible. Most dogs are pure rays of sunshine that will love you no matter what, and I know for a fact that’s true for the five I have right now.”
A little more reassured, I answer the rest of his questions, and he’s got quite a few of them. When we’re done, he asks for a tour through the house.
I hesitate. “I wasn’t counting on that.”
Yes, that’s politely worded code for “It’s a godawful mess, and I’d be embarrassed to show my mother this, let alone a complete stranger.”
“There’s no need to be uncomfortable. I just want to check if your house needs any adjustments to make it dog-proof.”
I didn’t think it was still possible to blush at the ripe age of thirty-six, but my cheeks heat up as I get up and lead him through my house. How fucking embarrassing to have someone else see the sad state of my house. When I bought it, I was so proud, so determined to fix it up and make it shine. One day, maybe, but definitely not yet.
It’s reasonably clean, since I had an energy boost ten or so days ago and attacked half the house with Mr. Clean lemon spray. I haven’t done jack shit since, but at least dust and grime don’t cover every surface, so there’s that.
Julian doesn’t say anything as I show him my bedroom, where piles of clean clothes are on the floor everywhere, the bathroom, with heaps of dirty clothes, and two guest rooms, with a mountain of unopened boxes. Some of them have been packed up since I enlisted, and I don’t even know what’s in there.
“Do you do this full time?” I ask, desperate to distract him. Lucky told me something about Julian working with animals in another capacity, but I can’t quite remember. One of the side effects of my PTSD is that my short-term memory sucks.
“Training dogs for Pups for Patriots? No. I am a full-time animal trainer, though.”
I frown. “Animal trainer? What does that mean?”
“I train animals for movies or TV. Mostly dogs and horses, but I’ve worked with some other animals as well, including a goat.”
“A goat? Can you even train those?”
Julian laughs, a full-out laugh that fills the room. “I’d have to say no wholeheartedly, but god knows I tried. Butler is the bane of my existence, but I’ve always loved a challenge.”
“How many animals do you have?”
“I have my own husky, Princess Pinecone, or PP for short, and then five dogs, plus Butler the goat, a donkey, five horses, and a bunch of chickens.”
“Wow. That’s a lot.”
He shrugs. “I love working with animals.”
Yeah, that much is clear from the passionate way he talks about his menagerie.
“You have two outlets in the bedroom that aren’t properly covered, so make sure to fix those,” Julian says, and that’s the only critical remark he makes. Props to his poker face, which never showed a trace of disgust or shock when we walked through the house. I appreciate that more than I can express.
“Does that mean I passed the test?”
I really hope that didn’t come out as fucking pathetic as it sounded to my own ears, but Julian flashes me another one of his happy smiles. He said his dogs are rays of sunshine, but he’s damn bright and shiny himself. “Absolutely. I’ll contact you in a day or two with a proposal for a dog, and we can set up a first meet and see if you fit. How does that sound?”
I nod, unable to speak. I’m scared to even hope, but somewhere deep inside me, a tiny seed has grown roots that perhaps a dog could make a difference. They don’t call them man’s best friends for nothing.
4
Julian
I feel a little bit like a parent driving their kid to preschool for the first time as I near Ranger’s house for a second time, except parents know they’re getting to bring their kid back home at the end of the day. Benny is buckled into the passenger seat of my truck, wagging his tail, his tongue lolling out as he watches the scenery fly by outside the window.
“Now, don’t be nervous,” I advise. “No pressure to click with him or anything. Just go with your gut.”
He huffs in what I assume is agreement. He’s a dog; he doesn’t have to be told twice about