They walked to his truck, and he opened the back door and gave Maverick the command to jump up, “Salta su.” Without hesitating, the dog leaped up into the back seat and settled down behind the driver’s seat.
After their short drive across town to Mary Jane’s, Rob revisited their practice session as he walked her to the door. “You did a great job tonight. I’ll call you tomorrow night and if you’re up for it, we can take him to the park and work with him before it gets dark.”
“That sounds great. Good luck finding an apartment.” She hesitated before unlocking the door. “Are you sure it’s okay for you to stay and help me learn how to handle Maverick? It seems like a big inconvenience—having to get an apartment, staying here and putting your own life on hold. I appreciate it, but it seems like asking a lot.”
“It’s the right thing to do.”
“Do you always do the right thing?”
“When I can.” He didn’t want to explain about his promise to Trevor and the sense of obligation he felt toward his buddy and Maverick. “I do the right thing as much as I can.”
She stared at him, as if studying him. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
He walked back to the truck, and as he got in turned to Maverick. “Oh, buddy. What have I gotten myself into?”
The dog’s response was a slight whine and soulful look as if he completely understood the situation.
Chapter Five
Rob woke to the sound of scrabbling claws, and soft whimpers that swiftly turned into the sound of a loud howl that made his skin crawl. He reached over to turn on the light and searched the room as his feet hit the floor. “Maverick! Va bene!” He had to raise his voice over the eerie wail the dog made. He slid down next to the dog who lay on the floor next to the bed. “Aw, Maverick,” he said as he petted and tried to soothe the terrified Malinois. He hadn’t experienced anything like this, although there had been some bad dreams and whining before. “Va bene,” he said again, wishing he had a greater vocabulary in Italian so he could reassure Maverick the way Trevor would have. “Il mio coraggioso cane guerriero.” Would calling the military canine “my brave warrior dog,” snap him out of whatever flashback or nightmare he had, or would it send him further into the memory?
It was difficult enough understanding PTSD when humans had it, but with an animal, it seemed a lot harder. He couldn’t use reason or explain to Maverick how to ground himself when these symptoms hit. He rubbed and petted him and was relieved when those warm chocolate eyes snapped open.The dog startled at Rob’s proximity. “Yeah, buddy. I’m here. I know how hard it is. I’m with you. It’ll be all right. I struggle with the same shit.” He sighed and shook his head. It seemed as if everybody who’d seen action in these endless wars suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder. That probably wasn’t the case, but it sure seemed like it.
Truth was, even though his buddies didn’t talk about it, he knew they all struggled. He hadn’t had a full night’s sleep since Trevor died. Come to think of it, Maverick probably hadn’t either.
How in hell was he going to get Maverick ready to live with Mary Jane, and how could he move her forward enough to handle such a strong Belgian Malinois, especially one that suffered from PTSD? He hadn’t talked to the vet at Camp Lejeune about it, and they hadn’t said a word to him either. Maybe they hadn’t noticed. He’d like to find somebody locally to talk to about it, somebody who was more of a specialist about the canine version of PTSD than he was. If he couldn’t find anybody in Ridgeview, he’d check with the Vet School in Knoxville. Surely, they would have seen it, since complicated animal medical and behavioral issues usually ended up at a university veterinary hospital.
He checked his watch which read 02:40. He pulled his pillow off the bed and hunkered down next to the large, red dog, petting him until he relaxed and sighed, putting his big canine head on the floor. Rob tucked himself into the dog’s warm, furry body, and eventually they both drifted off to sleep.
He woke to a wet, warm breath exhaling next to his nose. It took him only a moment to remember why he was on the floor. Maverick leaned over him with a concerned expression. “Va bene, Maverick,” he reassured the dog. If only it was true and everything was good. Well, he’d just have to make sure he made everything that way. He owed it to Trevor, and he owed it to Maverick. He probably owed it to MJ. Mary Jane, he corrected himself.
He stole a look at his watch—05:30. Okay, that was a reasonable time to get up and start moving. He and Maverick could use some exercise, and both had to relieve themselves. He took care of himself and threw on shorts and a T-shirt and hooked his canine companion onto his leash rather than the bridge handle. Rob suspected they both liked the routine of PT each morning. They needed it.
Once they got back from the park and a two-hour workout, they seemed less stressed. Maverick no longer gave him worried looks, and Rob felt the glow of endorphins flooding his system.
He showered, and they headed out to an old-style diner in downtown Ridgeview, named
