“Only because I came back. If I find any stains—”
“Dad,” I whined.
Calvin smiled as he stood, adjusted his tie and suit coat, and then tapped my foot. “I have to go.”
“Already?”
He nodded.
I sighed and pushed the blanket off before standing. “Coming back?”
“I’ll probably go to my place.”
“Probably?”
“Iwillgo to my place,” Calvin confirmed. “I’ll sleep.”
“All right….” I wrapped my arms around his neck and hugged Calvin tight. “Be safe.”
He murmured in agreement, petting the back of my head before kissing my forehead. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Nothing stupid, got it?”
“Have you met me?”
Calvin grunted. “I should know better.” He let go of me and grabbed his coat as he walked to the door. “William,” he said, pausing to shake my dad’s hand, because Calvin was always a gentleman. “Have a good night.”
“You too, Calvin.”
Calvin patted Maggie’s head before walking out the door.
Pop turned to me. “So?”
“Let’s go meet some dogs tomorrow.”
THE DOGSwere a bust.
K4V—K9s for Vets—may not have been affiliated with the VA or received funding from the government, but part of the application process still required veterans to have their PTSD diagnosed and verified by a doctor.
Which Calvin hadn’t and wouldn’t do.
Gwen Sutton, the owner of the organization, did let me meet the dogs at least. I think she felt bad for me.
“Hey,” I said when Calvin answered his phone. “I just wanted to let you know that I met the person who runs the K9s for Vets program.”
“How’d it go?” he asked, sounding quiet and wary.
“She’s nice. The dogs were all cool. She started the organization because her brother came back from Afghanistan with PTSD. Her name’s Gwen. She really wants to meet you.”
“Why’s that?”
“I guess you and her brother were deployed at the same time. Maybe you knew him.”
“There were a lot of soldiers in Afghanistan.”
I shrugged to myself. I was standing outside of a little restaurant a few blocks from the K4V office. Pop was waiting inside. “Anyway. I think you’d enjoy checking the place out. The application process is pretty straightforward. It’s basically like adopting a normal dog. With just… one extra thing.”
“Whatthing?” Calvin echoed.
I steeled myself. “Vets have to have a note from their doctors.”
