Knocking on the door, I check my watch. It’s almost two. I’ve got about thirty minutes before I need to leave for the airport. I hear the lock disengage, and then the door opens. “Alec?” It’s Mr—I mean Buck.
“Hi. Is Matilda home?”
He pulls the door wide open. “She’s out back.”
I step into the foyer as Buck gestures me onward. “Door in the kitchen.”
“Right.” I make my way through the living room and into the kitchen. Pulling open the door, I pause when I see her. She’s standing in the middle of the yard, looking down at what must be her new dog. I don’t wait. I open it and take three steps down to the patio. That’s when she spots me. “Alec?”
“Hey.”
I make my way over to her, then look down at the dog who hasn’t budged from its spot in front of her. “What kind of dog is this?” A fucking adorable dog, for sure.
“German shepherd.”
“He’s cute. How old?”
“Twelve weeks. His name’s Shep.”
Kneeling, I reach out to pet him. His fur is as soft as cotton. “Hey, Shep.” That’s all it takes to get him to move from his spot. Before I know it, the little guy is jumping up, attempting to lick my face. Picking him up, I wrap my arms around him as he wriggles around in my arms. He nips at my chin, and I wince. “Damn, he’s got sharp teeth.”
Matilda’s smiling. “That, plus he’s a bundle of energy. I’m surprised he’s learned as much as he has.”
“Oh yeah? What can he do?”
She takes him from my arms and places him at her feet. I watch as she shows him something in her hand. The sight of whatever it is has him sitting in seconds. “Yes,” she says, then bends, placing her hand near his face. He takes what she’s offering. A treat. She repeats that several times. Next, she kneels in front of him, holding her hand near the ground. Shep follows suit, kneeling on the ground. “Yes,” she says, handing off another snack.
“You train these dogs?”
“I do.”
“Why?”
“I love it.” She doesn’t stop repeating the same gestures and commands. Each time, Shep does what he’s supposed to do.
“When did you start doing it?”
“High school. We were required to volunteer, you know, do a service project. We could pick any place we wanted from the list. I chose Pets for Patriots. When I got there, they needed an assistant in their dog training program. It sounded fun.” She shrugs. “I volunteered. The rest is history.”
“What happens after you train them? Do you sell them?”
She shrugs. “No. I give them away.”
What? “Give them away? Why the hell would you do that? People would pay good money for a well-trained dog, especially a breed like this one.” I pet the little guy’s head. He calms down a little.
She stops what she’s doing, turns to face me, and frowns. “Look, I’ll tell you what I’m doing, but you need to keep it to yourself. I don’t want anyone to know. Only Dad and Bobby know.”
“Okay.” Jesus, are they drug-sniffing dogs or some shit? Oh, wait, they could be police dogs.
“You’ve heard of Pets for Patriots, right?”
“Yes.” I mean, who hasn’t?
“After high school, I continued volunteering for them. When I felt like I was good enough to train a dog on my own, I bought a puppy. They’re still my conduit when I have questions about a dog or after I’m finished training a pup. They’re the ones who find a match, and when they do, I give them the dog.”
“You donate your dogs? To veterans?” I’d like to ask more questions, but I’m speechless.
“I do. It can take up to nine months to get a dog to the level they need to be, but after that, yes.”
