“The little bastard,” Weston said in an amiable voice. “We keep seeing the dark side of humanity at every corner, don’t we?”
“Yes, we do,” Badger said. “But good men are out there, period. Anyway, give me some time to think about this. And, if you have more updates on the two brothers, let me know.”
After he rang off, Weston remained outside on the patio, while Shambhala lay in the yard. She seemed perfectly content. But then, she’d been perfectly content to be at the fireplace back at the cabin today too. He wondered if the paperwork for her was in Ginger’s name or Grant’s because ownership of the dog might become an issue. In that case, he may not even be able to take Shambhala to another foster home for care. He sent Badger a text, asking that question. Badger came back saying the dog had been signed over to Ginger.
Interesting. Because that wasn’t the same thing as Grant saying he was willing and capable of looking after the dog. So the push for the dog had been Ginger’s, and maybe that was why Shambhala was doing better here because of the presence of the two females. Maybe Shambhala’s history so far hadn’t left her too much faith in men. She’d had good training but had lost her trainer. That was a circumstance Weston didn’t know the details of. But, just like in any case, history was important.
He sent another text to Badger, asking about the fate of Shambhala’s trainer. He replied a few minutes later.
Trainers actually. Like so many of the K9, they are dedicated to just one man at a time. When a trainer leaves the military service, or goes into a different department, he often has to relinquish the dog, who is an asset of the US government. In this case Shambhala was relinquished to another man and then went through a series of different trainers as they taught her new techniques that they could then impart to other dogs. That’s when she ended up in a bombing incident, and the decision was made to retire her.
Her injuries don’t appear to bother her too much, Weston responded.
Good. She’s done her duty by all of us, and what she needs now is a few good years where she can just relax and have a good life.
Weston left it at that.
He walked across the grass toward her. Shambhala just watched him, her gaze steady. But there was no fear, just observation. He crouched in front of her. Reaching out, he stroked and scratched the dog. Her missing leg appeared to be inconsequential to her. He noted she had jumped in and out of the truck without any issues, though it might become a bigger problem as she got older.
Shambhala rolled over on her back and gave him her belly. He gently stroked her and gave her a really good belly rub. Thankfully the dried blood was gone. He could see a small scab over a scratch, but it appeared to be a minor injury. Same thing when he checked out her haunch. That was good. He just wanted to impart friendliness, cooperation and, of course, build a bond with her.
At that last bit his mind stuttered to a stop, surprised he wanted to bond with this dog. Was it fair to build a bond and then have her go to somebody else? How happy had she been with Ginger? Shambhala had appeared to have been very relaxed, if not bonded to Ginger, as Shambhala had gone straight to the carpet in front of the cabin’s fireplace, as if that was her go-to comfort zone. But that didn’t mean she had the same comfort with her owners as she’d had with her trainers.
A lot of dogs just detached after a while. They said that a dog would always find somebody new to bond with, but, after so many different people, dogs did tend to get a little more detached, and it would take longer to bond each time.
Just then the patio doors opened behind him. Daniela and Sari stepped out, Sari holding her mom’s hand as she made her way awkwardly down the steps. But no doubt about where she was headed. She had her free arm forward, reaching for Shambhala.
“Doggy, doggy.”
Daniela laughed. “We’re getting there.”
He watched as Shambhala lifted her head and wagged her tail as she saw the two women coming toward her. Whereas Weston himself hadn’t been given a tail wag, not the happy kind here. Instinctively he knew it was logical, but he had to admit to feeling let down. He’d always had a good rapport with animals. He was up against some history here, and he didn’t know how to deal with it.
As Sari got closer, she tumbled and fell to her knees. Instinctively Weston jumped forward to make sure the dog wouldn’t hurt her, but instead Shambhala reached up and licked Sari’s face. Sari laughed, then fell forward on top of Shambhala’s belly. Daniela tried to pull her back but lost her grip on the little fingers. She turned to look back at him and frowned. “Do you think this is safe?”
He walked over to Shambhala, who was even now lying there blissfully happy as Sari reached up to pet her, which ended up being more like a smack on the face.
“I can’t honestly say,” he said. “But, if Shambhala is bonding with anybody, I’d say it’s with Sari.”
At that moment, Shambhala rolled over slightly, knocking Sari to the grass, and she stared up at him with surprise and then laughed. Shambhala licked her face again. Then the two of them just curled up, intertwined. Shambhala sat in between Sari’s legs, her chubby little arm wrapped around the dog’s neck, their heads together.
He caught the sound of Daniela’s breath quickly sucked back. He pulled out his phone and started taking pictures.
Chapter 9
“Are you taking pictures because it’s cute,” Daniela said in a faint
