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“Aw, thanks.”
By doing this, I also have to give her the code to my alarm system.
r /> “Are you sure you trust me enough for this?” she jokes.
“If anyone ever steals my stuff without setting off the alarm, I know who to direct the police to,” is my reply and it cracks her up.
“Oh! No! Dog! Get out! Brayden’s going to kill me! Outside! Outside! Out!” she shouts. “Shit. Now, I feel bad because I scared him, but I’ll come back and clean your house. There’s muddy paw prints everywhere.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“No, I know how you like your house clean,” she teases. Deanna continues to talk to me as she gets the dog into her car, stops to buy him food, toys, a bed, and other things he’ll need. She tests out various names to see what he’ll respond to, but gives up and decides to name him Otis. She thinks he’s a Rottweiler. Apparently, he knows a lot of commands already, so she thinks he was someone’s pet once, but based on how skinny he is that might have been a while ago.
Deanna sends me a few photos and he’s a handsome dog. He’s big, too. Once he eats steadily, he’ll be even bigger. Deanna will have her hands full. I’m a little jealous of her. Is it bad that I’m ready for this trip to be over with because the sooner it is I can see Deanna and her new dog?
***
Otis didn’t have a chip in him, and neither the vet nor the local animal shelters had heard of anyone missing a Rottweiler. He’s all mine, it seems. Aside from needing to be fed regularly, he’s also healthy. The vet thinks he’s about a year old. The poor fella is still a puppy, practically! I love animals, but I haven’t had a pet since I was a kid and that was a cat. I don’t know a thing about Rottweilers other than what they look like and that they are supposed to be super protective of their owners. At least, I think that’s right.
What I do know about Otis is that baths are his enemy, he’s super smart, and he does not like his bed; he prefers mine. I’m working on training him to sleep in his, or at the very least, at the foot of mine, but I always wake up to find him with his head on the pillow next to mine. Like he’s a human! It cracks me up and makes me smile, so how much can I really complain? I’m still working on making him listen to me, though.
I bought a crate, but his big ass refused to go in and when I tried to help him along, he went crazy the moment he was inside and quickly escaped. Scared the hell out of me to see him scared. I don’t know what happened to him, but I refuse to leave him in the crate. He hasn’t used the bathroom in the house. However, four of the new toys I bought him are now without their stuffing. I’m thinking he may need a morning jog to run off some energy; it’ll help keep me in shape too.
So far, he only has one major bad habit.
Otis has fallen in love with me. When I come home, he runs over and jumps up to place his paws on my chest. He’s already huge and he nearly knocks me on my ass every time if I don’t grab onto something. He’s supposed to weigh at least ninety pounds at this age; I really need to curb this before he gains his healthy weight back.
Otherwise, I’m in love. He’s kept me so busy that I haven’t missed Zane or Brayden that much. I haven’t had the time!
My phone vibrates on the coffee table and Otis leans forward to sniff the thing making noise. I grab it.
Brayden: What’s your address?
Why does he need to know that? No one ever comes to my house.
But...
What if he’s back in town? I do know where his spare key is and his alarm code. I can give him something in return, can’t I?
Before I overthink it, I respond with my address. An hour later, Otis suddenly jumps off the couch and stands at the door, growling low in his throat. I stand just as there’s a knock, which makes him bark.
“It’s okay, Otis.” I pat his head and step in front of him. “Sit.” He doesn’t look away from the door and it takes him a moment and me repeating it more firmly before he sits. Just to be safe, I tell him to stay before opening the door.
Brayden stands on the other side. I lean against the door because damn, he looks good. Dark red hair reflecting the sunshine, dark green eyes running over my body with hunger, and then the largeness of his body, unfortunately covered by clothes. He steps forward with a hand out, but Otis growls and he freezes.
“Otis, no,” I chide. I step aside and motion for Brayden to come inside, closing the door behind him. He does and I step forward this time to hug him. That’s when Otis moves and sniffs him to check him out. “Otis, Brayden. Brayden, Otis.”
Brayden holds his hand out, which Otis sniffs, and then Brayden rubs behind the dog’s ears. That’s all it takes for Otis to fall in love with Brayden. He steps closer, seconds later falling over to lie on his back in a silent demand of a belly rub. Brayden laughs and happily obliges.
“How are things going?” he asks, glancing up at me.
“We’re battling it out for the alpha role, but things are mostly good.” He already knows about most of my issues because I’ve been keeping him posted.
“Maybe we should find a trainer to help you, especially since we don’t know what happened with him before you found him.”
I’ve ignored that suggestion when Brayden mentioned it in the past. There are a few reasons: he said we; I’ve spent quite a bit of money on this dog already, so if I can do it myself, I want to try that route; and he said we. I think Brayden wants my dog or wants to co-own him, even though he hasn’t said as much. That’s just taking things too far between us.
“I can pay for it,” Brayden offers.
