Man

“Come on, it’s okayyyy!” my voice is cracking. How is something so little, so strong? I’m in the middle of a Chic-fil-a parking lot and it’s crowded. I’m not sure if he is afraid of all of the cars, the people or me. One thing is for sure, he is not moving. I tug at his leash. He is an immovable mound of jet black fur with a sweet puppy dog face.

“He looks like a bear…what’s his name? '' says a girl passing by with a white Chic-fil-a bag stained with grease.

“Slate.” I respond, briefly looking in her direction.

“Do you want some water for him?”

I look over and see that she is wearing a red Chic-fil-a employee shirt. I nod my head.

I finally give in, pick him up and place him down on a patch of grass.

“Go pottyyyy…Slate” He looks up at me and sits down.

“I know you have to go, it’s been an hour” Puppy’s go every hour or two…at least that's what I read. At 6 months, you’re still a puppy, right. I don’t know but there’s no way you're going to piss in my truck.

After what feels like 20 minutes, he finally pees. I pick him back up and place him in the trunk of my Honda HRV.

The girl brings over a bottle of water and I pull out the amazon travel water bowl that I purchased. I place it in front of Slate. He stares at it and looks up at me.

“Not thirsty?” After a few moments, I pour out the water, put Slate back in his crate and close the trunk. Maybe I was wrong to get a dog.

I wish my wife was here but her deployment was extended yet again. Paris has had many family dogs. I have never had a dog. From the age of 5, I asked for a dog every Christmas. My request stopped at 9 years old when my parents brought me a large stuffed dog after two months of guaranteeing that this would be the Christmas that I finally get one.

In my thirties, I prefer to drive in silence. Slate is howling and whining in his crate. I turn on music to soothe him…it doesn’t work.

We make it home and I open the trunk. Slate wiggles from me each time I attempt to pick him. He does not want to leave the safety of my trunk. I don’t think he likes me. Don’t worry, I think to myself, you are a gift for my wife. Maybe…I no longer have the heart I had as a child. The pure heart that loved dogs. The good heart that dogs could sense.

My parents told me how dogs often gravitated towards me when I was a child. Their favorite story took place on the Charles Family Farm. I went missing that day and my parents and the Charles Family panickedly searched for me. They heard me scream and ran in the direction of my voice. When they found me, I was laughing and hooting gleefully as our friends three dogs jumped on me and licked my face. That day, I found three dogs and they received me. A lot has happened since then. When I joined the military, my dad, a Navy vet himself warned me that it can change you. I worked hard to always do what’s right but war does change you.

When I finally get him inside, I put him down and watch him begin to sniff around. “Welcome home” I say. I take him outside one more time before heading up the stairs. Tomorrow, our day begins early.

In the morning I drop Slate at daycare. I make it to work later than I like but still early. My phone rings…it’s his daycare.

“Is this the owner of Slate?” I recognize the voice. It’s the girl at the front desk of his daycare.

“Yes” I say cautiously.

“I apologize sir but we had to take Slate to our emergency vet, he has a fever” I jump.

“What happened” I say, louder than I expected.

“I don’t know...we just noticed that he wasn’t engaging in play.”

“What’s the address?” I write it down and head to my watch floor supervisor to let him know that I am leaving early.

“My dog has a fever and was taken to an emergency vet” I say hurriedly.

My watch floor supervisor looks at me with a smirk and says with a hint of sarcasm “he’s sick already”.

I laugh half-heartedly. Was this my fault?

I make it to the vet. A sign on the door reads, “Due to COVID restriction, no patrons are allowed inside.” I call the front desk.

They tell me that they are assessing him. What Did I Do Wrong?

The vet finally calls me after almost 2 hours and tells me that they have given him pain medication and a fever reducer. They explain that he has something called Panosteitis or “Pano” for short.

“We call it growing pains. We see Pano in large breed dogs and by the size of his paws, he’s going to be a big guy.” says the vet casually.

“Can I see him?” I say.

“I apologize sir but due to COVID, we are not allowing…” I cut him off…“Please…” I’m surprised to feel a ball in my throat. I swallow hard and wait for a response.

“Ok sir. Come to the front door” says the vet with a sigh.

I hear Slate before I see him. He’s whining. They carry Slate outside and place him on the ground. I stoop down to a sitting position. He looks at me. He begins to slowly make his way closer to me. He carefully places his head in my lap. I pet him and he closes his eyes.

After a few moments, the veterinary tech comes over and picks Slate up.

“Don’t worry dad, we're just keeping him for overnight observation. How long have you had him?” she asked.

“A day” I say with a half-smile.

“Wow! Well, I always say, dogs can sense a good heart.”