Page 2
Cage cackles, and Malik’s eyes open slightly as he smirks at me.
Can’t help but laugh at them laughing at me, and I don’t deny Malik’s appraisal. I miss the fuck out of Bubba. While I really dig my new teammates and hang out with them regularly, I love my dog a lot more. I’ve been gone eight days in Mexico, and I know he’s missed me just as much.
“Bubba’s way more fun than you two.” My head rolls on the seat rest, and I watch out the window as the ground comes closer and closer until we touch down with a slight jolt.
Nabbing my phone from the console between my seat and the empty one to my right, I go to my texts.
As expected, I have one from the dog sitter, Julie. Simply a picture of Bubba curled up in his bed with his favorite stuffy between his paws. He has his head tipped quizzically toward the camera and looks beyond adorable.
Below the picture, three simple words: He missed you.
Can’t help but smile. I missed that furry bastard too.
Bubba is more than just a dog and calling him a pet is a sacrilege. Bubba—real name Omega, but somehow I started calling him Bubba as a nickname and it stuck—was my partner while I was in the Marines. A Belgian Malinois, Bubba was a single-purpose working military dog trained to detect explosives. We inspected cars that came through entry points at Camp Baharia and cleared streets in Fallujah. We called Iraq home on two different tours of duty, stationed in California between deployments.
But the United States started pulling out of Iraq and Bubba was getting a little too old to continue such strenuous work. When we returned stateside, my enlistment was up, and Bubba was ready to be retired. It made sense for us to leave the Corps together, so I adopted my boy and gave him a life of luxury. Soft beds, good treats, and lots of stuffed animals, which he loves to shove into his mouth while he sleeps.
Bubba is still a working dog with me at Jameson. He’s game to cover events, and we walk venues together as an extra service Jameson provides. A few hours on his feet doesn’t bother him at all, but at eight years of age, with early arthritis setting in, anything longer isn’t good for him.
I flip my phone around and hold it out for Cage and Malik—who has now chosen to sit up and stay awake—to see. “Isn’t he the cutest pupper in the world?”
Cage rolls his eyes. “Yeah… cute as a button for an animal that could rip out my throat if you gave a one-word command.”
Malik chuckles, but they both know that’s not true. Bubba isn’t an attack dog, although he looks intimidating enough. He’s been trained to have a keen nose only, although he is territorial about our house and will snarl and bark viciously at anyone who approaches. Malik, Cage, and all the members of Jameson have heard me prattle on and on about my dog, and while they love to give me shit about it, they understand the special bond we have. They all know that you can’t walk along streets in a foreign country with the stress of knowing your dog could get blown up if he’s not good at his job.
They have the utmost respect for Bubba because he put himself in harm’s way, day in and day out, while on the job. Any given day that dog woke up, it could’ve easily been his last if he’d set off a charge while doing detection.
Before I can even turn the phone back around, a new text chimes, and Cage’s smile goes sly as he sees who it’s from. “Your stalker is back.”
I curse under my breath as I flip the phone so I can see the screen, grimacing at the message from Adriana. Just checking in to see how you’re doing. I miss you.
My former girlfriend, who can’t seem to grasp that we are undeniably over and won’t ever be getting back together.
Cage and Malik—as well as most of my mates at Jameson—know about her.
They were, in fact, expecting her to come to Pittsburgh with me. She’d been in California, wrapping up the packing of my house where we’d been living together prior to the offer to come to Jameson. She did most of the work, getting it ready to go on the market so I could get a jump on my new job in Pittsburgh. I went back to California in mid-April with the intent that Adriana, Bubba, and I would drive the U-Haul and her vehicle east to start the next chapter in our lives.
All plans were ruined when I arrived a day early to surprise her. I surprised her a little too well when I caught her fucking the lawn maintenance guy in our bed.
Can’t help but laugh at them laughing at me, and I don’t deny Malik’s appraisal. I miss the fuck out of Bubba. While I really dig my new teammates and hang out with them regularly, I love my dog a lot more. I’ve been gone eight days in Mexico, and I know he’s missed me just as much.
“Bubba’s way more fun than you two.” My head rolls on the seat rest, and I watch out the window as the ground comes closer and closer until we touch down with a slight jolt.
Nabbing my phone from the console between my seat and the empty one to my right, I go to my texts.
As expected, I have one from the dog sitter, Julie. Simply a picture of Bubba curled up in his bed with his favorite stuffy between his paws. He has his head tipped quizzically toward the camera and looks beyond adorable.
Below the picture, three simple words: He missed you.
Can’t help but smile. I missed that furry bastard too.
Bubba is more than just a dog and calling him a pet is a sacrilege. Bubba—real name Omega, but somehow I started calling him Bubba as a nickname and it stuck—was my partner while I was in the Marines. A Belgian Malinois, Bubba was a single-purpose working military dog trained to detect explosives. We inspected cars that came through entry points at Camp Baharia and cleared streets in Fallujah. We called Iraq home on two different tours of duty, stationed in California between deployments.
But the United States started pulling out of Iraq and Bubba was getting a little too old to continue such strenuous work. When we returned stateside, my enlistment was up, and Bubba was ready to be retired. It made sense for us to leave the Corps together, so I adopted my boy and gave him a life of luxury. Soft beds, good treats, and lots of stuffed animals, which he loves to shove into his mouth while he sleeps.
Bubba is still a working dog with me at Jameson. He’s game to cover events, and we walk venues together as an extra service Jameson provides. A few hours on his feet doesn’t bother him at all, but at eight years of age, with early arthritis setting in, anything longer isn’t good for him.
I flip my phone around and hold it out for Cage and Malik—who has now chosen to sit up and stay awake—to see. “Isn’t he the cutest pupper in the world?”
Cage rolls his eyes. “Yeah… cute as a button for an animal that could rip out my throat if you gave a one-word command.”
Malik chuckles, but they both know that’s not true. Bubba isn’t an attack dog, although he looks intimidating enough. He’s been trained to have a keen nose only, although he is territorial about our house and will snarl and bark viciously at anyone who approaches. Malik, Cage, and all the members of Jameson have heard me prattle on and on about my dog, and while they love to give me shit about it, they understand the special bond we have. They all know that you can’t walk along streets in a foreign country with the stress of knowing your dog could get blown up if he’s not good at his job.
They have the utmost respect for Bubba because he put himself in harm’s way, day in and day out, while on the job. Any given day that dog woke up, it could’ve easily been his last if he’d set off a charge while doing detection.
Before I can even turn the phone back around, a new text chimes, and Cage’s smile goes sly as he sees who it’s from. “Your stalker is back.”
I curse under my breath as I flip the phone so I can see the screen, grimacing at the message from Adriana. Just checking in to see how you’re doing. I miss you.
My former girlfriend, who can’t seem to grasp that we are undeniably over and won’t ever be getting back together.
Cage and Malik—as well as most of my mates at Jameson—know about her.
They were, in fact, expecting her to come to Pittsburgh with me. She’d been in California, wrapping up the packing of my house where we’d been living together prior to the offer to come to Jameson. She did most of the work, getting it ready to go on the market so I could get a jump on my new job in Pittsburgh. I went back to California in mid-April with the intent that Adriana, Bubba, and I would drive the U-Haul and her vehicle east to start the next chapter in our lives.
All plans were ruined when I arrived a day early to surprise her. I surprised her a little too well when I caught her fucking the lawn maintenance guy in our bed.
Table of Contents
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