Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 71226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
He refused to acknowledge her or me or anyone.
It was fairly heartbreaking to see Sage trying so hard and not getting anything out of it.
He wasn’t snarling, though, so I was counting that as a positive.
Anytime either one of us came near him, his ears pinned to the back of his head and he watched us as if we were about to harm him.
He ate. He drank. He laid out in the sun.
But he did not look like he was enjoying life like I’d once seen him do.
Seeing the defeated look on Sage’s face when she tried to lure him to her with his favorite treats, I headed for the back porch and whistled.
Both dog and woman looked up, but only the woman headed my way.
“Looking kind of sad,” I admitted as she came to within ten feet of me.
“I know that he’s doing better here,” she said as she came to a stop on my porch. “Can I have some of that?”
I handed her my cup of coffee.
She took it with a small smile before taking a healthy swallow.
“He looks better now that he’s not in the kennel twenty-four-seven,” I admitted. “But he still looks like we’re getting ready to beat him at any second.”
She took another swallow, not saying anything.
“He likes lying out in the sun, too,” I pointed out. “I noticed that he ate all of his food today.”
“He did,” she nodded. “Do you think he hates the muzzle?”
I studied the muzzle for a long time before admitting, “I think he actually looks rather comfortable in it.”
“I do, too,” she confirmed, still looking at the dog like she’d lost her best friend. And maybe she had.
I’d given her the dog for a reason.
She’d always looked so dang lonely every time I’d seen her.
I’d hated seeing the look on her face.
She’d come to every single day of my trial.
She’d written me every single day—even though by the guard’s admissions, I’d never seen a single one of them.
She’d looked so lost in that moment that I knew I’d do anything necessary to get the dog healed to put a smile back on her face.
Did they make dog therapists?
I picked up a ball off the picnic table and started to bounce it almost absentmindedly.
It was the dog’s, of course.
Sage had tried everything from treats to toys to gentle talking.
The dog didn’t give a fuck about anything or anyone.
But today, his head picked up and he watched me as I bounced the ball.
“Huh,” Sage said. “Try throwing it.”
“At him? Or near him? What?”
“Uh.” She paused. “Maybe just near him. See if he goes for it.”
I did, not quite hitting him, but getting really close to him.
The ball landed next to his feet and he watched it roll to a stop.
Not quite touching him, but if he reached, he could get to it.
The ball came to a stop and Neo watched it.
He picked his gaze up to watch us, then back down to the ball.
He did this for several seconds before he finally settled on us.
Sage and I started talking about the next steps with him. But as we spoke, not giving Neo any attention, he started to creep closer and closer to the ball.
The more we talked and “ignored him” the closer he got until he had the ball between his paws.
“Aces,” she whispered.
My lips twitched and I held out my hand for the coffee cup that she’d almost drained.
She handed it to me, and I went inside with Sage following behind me.
The moment she closed the door, we both watched in surprise as Neo got up and started to try to pick up the ball.
The ball was too big to fit in his muzzle, so all he ended up doing was chasing it around the yard.
Sage sniffled.
“He’ll get there, Herb,” I promised.
She cleared her throat. “Do you think so?”
Before I could answer, the doorbell sounded.
Neo laid down flat, ears pinned back, and glared at the house.
He’d heard the doorbell, too.
A doorbell meant visitors.
And he didn’t like visitors or surprises.
I looked at the door.
“Aren’t you going to get that?” she asked.
“I have a gate,” I grumbled. “Whoever is on the other side of that door isn’t someone I want here.”
“What if it’s FedEx? Or UPS?” she countered as she walked to the front door.
“They would’ve left the packages at the gate like they always do,” I pointed out, walking behind her to the door.
I wouldn’t let her answer it alone.
Whoever was on the other side had climbed over a fence to get here. Then walked a full fucking mile down a gravel road to get to the front door.
Anyone else who had come visiting would’ve called before they did that.
Seeing as I’d had my phone on me since I woke up, I doubted that it was anyone I wanted there.
She pushed the curtains to the side and said, “It’s a woman.”