“Haveyou ever thought about getting a dog?” Jameson asks as I’m sweeping the aisle of his barn.
“A dog?” I question looking at him, then down at the two other sets of eyes staring up at me. One is a giant black and white fluffy dog named Bennet, and I know he was Sutton’s before she moved here. The other is a blue nose Pit Bull named Duke. I like dogs, I’ve never owned one, but I get along when them fine, especially these two.
“Yeah, you know, maybe you’d be less lonely,” he ribs.
“I’m not lonely, I have plenty of women keeping me entertained.”I used to. Not anymore. The one I want refuses to give into what we clearly have.
“I’m sure you do, but you can never have too many friends.” He shrugs, and the dogs follow.
I consider what he’s saying, and I know service dogs have been offered to several other veterans I’ve known over the years. I’vejust never seen the need for myself. I don’t need any service a dog can offer, but for some reason his words stick with me this time.
Maybe I’ll go to the shelter and walk the dogs sometime. I do need distractions to fill my days, which is why I’m here with the horses so often. I don’t have a job, nor would I know what I would even do if I did. Due to the circumstances of my discharge, how long I served, and the money I inherited from my parents after they died I don’t have to work for an income. I like to do things that I want to do, not just for a paycheck.
I don’t need much, my car is the nicest thing I own. I have no interest filling my space with useless junk I’ll never use. But maybe spending time with dogs could help fill more of my days.
Animals are peaceful, and they don’t talk back which is probably my favorite part about them. I don’t have to say anything to them, they don’t have to say anything to me. There’s a mutual understanding and it’s nice.
That’s how I ended up at the local animal shelter. The older woman working there looked at me wide eyed, which isn’t exactly new for me. I’m a big guy, a lot of people stare when I walk in somewhere and instantly think I’m scarier than I really am.
“How can I volunteer?” I ask, though I recognize I think it sounded more like a grunt than I meant.
“Y-you want to volunteer?” she stutters.
I nod, once.
“Yeah, okay, of course. Great. I’ll get you the paperwork to get started.” She starts rummaging around.
I shift, looking around at the small office area. “I just want to walk them.”
“That’s more than okay, we need all the help we can get, and sometimes they just want a little extra attention.” She pulls out a couple pieces of paper, scanning them and then sliding them over to me.
“It’s just general liability info.” She waves her hand around like it’s no big deal.
“As long as I’m not signing away my soul or something.” My tone remains even, but she barks out a loud laugh like I told her the greatest joke possible.
“No, no it’s nothing like that,” she says through her laughter, and I still think she’s laughing way too hard over my non-joke.
I don’t even crack a smile, looking down at the papers and signing my name on the line and handing them over.
“Perfect, you can come by any time we’re open.” She smiles widely.
“I’m free now if that’s okay?”
“Oh yeah, of course, please. There’re so many dogs, I’m sure will be happy to stretch their legs a bit.”
Nodding, she leads me back toward the kennels, and introduces me to some of the dogs. Some look so scared cowering in the back of the cage, some are laying under the cot bed they’re provided. Others are sitting up front, wagging their tail just hoping they’ll get an ounce of attention.
It’s a German Shepherd that catches my eye. He’s curled up as small as he can be, face turned away and I can feel his sadness from here. “That’s Bruno, he’s been shy ever since his previous family dropped him off here about a month ago.”
My stomach sinks. “Why would they do that?”
She sighs. “It happens a lot more than you think and there’s always a different reason. Moving, a new baby, change in lifestyle, and sometimes, they just don’t want them anymore.”
“None of those seem like good enough reasons to get rid of a dog,” I grumble.
“I agree, but other people don’t.”
“That’s fucked up,” I murmur.
