He dumped the trash into a nearby garbage can and looked at his watch. He was ready to check out living quarters and hoped to hear from Mrs. Van Buren soon. As if he’d conjured her, his phone rang with an unfamiliar number.
“Hello, Rob? This is Carolrae Van Buren. I spoke with Mrs. Boggs a few minutes ago. She says you should drop over and see the apartment. She’s okay with renting to you and Maverick. She has an upper flat on Wells Street. That’s on the east side of Ridgeview, a few miles from MJ’s house. Let’s see. Here’s the address: 5321 Wells. You’ll go down East Main Street until you get to the roundabout, and then follow it around to Martindale. Follow Martindale to Wells and take a right. You’ll go three blocks and it’s a white two-story house with an outside staircase. Her name is Thelina Boggs.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Van Buren. I’ll find it. I appreciate you paving the way for me.”
“Good luck, Rob. I appreciate your willingness to teach MJ what she needs to know about handling Maverick. I hope she’ll be able to pick up what she needs. It sounds like you’ll be a good teacher. She needs this right now. She’s been so lost.”
I know what that’s like. He didn’t say it out loud. He wasn’t used to sharing his pain with others, no matter how nice and motherly they were. He’d honor his promise to Trevor—and Maverick—and then hit the road. Maybe he’d figure out how to put his life back together.
By eleven hundred hours, Rob had signed a month-to-month lease on a one-bedroom upper flat and had listened to Mrs. Boggs gush about what a “big boy” Maverick was. Luckily, the Belgian Malinois had tolerated her hugs and invasion of his space without losing his cool. Rob wasn’t thrilled with having his cheek pinched by the sixty-something woman in too much eye makeup.
“Well, buddy, I guess we’re really staying for a while.” He made a mental list of things to accomplish this afternoon before he met with Mary Jane again. He checked out of the motel and moved his things into the apartment, stopped at a bank and opened a checking account, and left Maverick at the apartment to explore, while he hit a nearby grocery store for basic provisions. After unpacking his supplies and grabbing a quick sandwich, he and Maverick headed over to the pet store Mary Jane had mentioned, using an app on his phone.
Rob and Maverick pulled into a parking space in front of the storefront located just outside of downtown. A bell tinkled above the door as they entered, and a pleasant young woman approached him.
“Welcome to Barnaby’s Table. What a beautiful Belgian Malinois,” she said, reaching out to let Maverick sniff her fist. “Is he a service dog? He reminds me of ours. My husband and I own Barnaby’s. We named the store after our dog, Barnaby, the Malinois K-9 officer Ben used to work with.” Sadness passed over her face. “He died last year of cancer. Ben is working with another Malinois now named Kit, but we both miss Barnaby terribly. You never forget your first love.”
He nodded when it appeared her conversational motor had run down. “He was partner to my buddy, Trevor Baird. They both worked in our Marine unit in Afghanistan.” He looked around to see if anyone else was listening. “I think he’s got a touch of PTSD. We’re both out now, and I brought him to Ridgeview to his new owner.”
The woman shook her head, sadly. “We’ve seen other service dogs who’ve ended up suffering from PTSD. I guess we shouldn’t be surprised. If it can affect human warriors, it can also affect the canine ones.”
“Are there any vets around here who know how to treat PTSD in dogs? Veterinarians, I mean.”
“Rachel Waring at Mountain Veterinary Clinic is former Army and seems to know a lot. I’d check with her.”
Rob made a note in his phone before letting her know what he needed in dog food.
“It’s right over here.” She directed him to a neatly stacked display of a variety of the type of dog food Maverick needed.
“I’ll take two bags of that,” he said, pointing to one particular brand and size. Maverick stopped sniffing, and perked up, as if he understood: this purchase would be for him, and something he’d like.
“Thanks, Robert,” she said as she handed the credit card receipt to him. “My name is Dawn. Ben will be excited to learn that there’s another Belgian Malinois in town. I hope you’ll stop in some weekend. The Ridgeview Police Department keeps him busy during the week, but he tries to work here on Saturdays. He may want to schedule a play date for Kit and your dog. What’s his name?”
“Maverick.” Rob felt a bit overwhelmed by Dawn’s friendliness and the flood of information. Small towns. They differed from what he was used to. Durango wasn’t huge, but it was nothing like this.
Dawn leaned down and petted Maverick’s head. “Don’t be strangers,” she said and waved at them as they left the store.
Rob loaded the bags into the back of the truck and headed back to his new apartment, checking his watch. Yeah, he’d have time to contact the vet Dawn had suggested before going over to Mary Jane’s.
He let Maverick out to explore the backyard while
