Second Chances by Cheyenne Meadows Page A

war dogs. Those that had seen action were
retired for one reason or another. Or sometimes, a medical problem sidelined a
dog with great potential or had been working already. Understandably, the
handlers were given first choice to adopt the dog, but sometimes that wasn’t
possible. Then, the Army opened the adoption process up to the general public.
No charge to adopt the dogs, just fill out the forms, go on a waiting list that
could be one to two years long, and see if the powers that be would approve of
the person. Those on the list would wait for a call, months or even years down
the road. If they were chosen, they had to get to San Antonio and spend at
least a couple of days getting to know their new friend while learning about
the animal’s training, familiarizing themselves with the commands, and how to
transition a working war dog into a family pet. The visit was mandatory before
the Army released the dog to the new owners.
    She
scrolled through the data again, checked out the dogs available for adoption,
and read their stories. There weren’t many, but every one broke her heart.
    After a
few tours of duty, the dogs needed rest, understanding, and pampering for the
rest of their natural lives. The puppies were cute, but something drew her to
the canines that had done their duty and now earned retirement.
    Just
like her horses, she preferred one who’d been through hell and had the
fortitude to plow through and survive. They reminded her of Ben. Smart, brave,
loyal. The love they had to give could be seen in their eyes.
    How
could anyone turn their back on those deserving animals?
    She
couldn’t.
    Issues
started cropping up in her mind. She would keep the dog in the house with her,
but what about her twelve hour shifts at work? What about any vacations she
might take? Who would step up to take care of the animal when she was away?
    A vet
clinic or dog hotel might be an option, but she hesitated. Chances are those
people never dealt with an animal like a military dog who could easily have
their own issues. No. She needed someone well versed in the role. Someone like
Dusty.
    April
clicked on the adoption form, pulled it up, and printed it out. Reading it
over, she noticed a narrative and reference section where she could explain why
she wanted to adopt. What she jotted down would help make or break her as a
potential forever home for a dog. But what could she say that would set her
application apart from dozens of others the facility was sure to get each
month?
    Dusty.
    He
might be able to help her out with a sound reference.
    Great
in theory, not so much in reality. Unfortunately, he wasn’t in the helpful mood
right now.
    The way to a man’s heart is
through his stomach. The old adage rang a bell.
    Goodness
knows Dusty didn’t get hearty, home cooked food very often. Between the heat,
his lack of air conditioning in the house, and the fact that he’d just be
fixing for himself, it was no wonder Dusty lived on sandwiches.
    Time
for a change.
    April
turned off her computer and returned to the kitchen. She opened the fridge
door, peered inside, and debated what she could throw together that Dusty might
enjoy. The chicken caught her eye. She had fresh vegetables as well. The menu
started to mentally fill in.
    With
renewed energy, she went to work on her latest goal—a peace offering in the
form of a hot, complete meal.
     

     
    “This
is good.” Dusty chewed with relish. He watched the smile of appreciation appear
on April’s face. Blue eyes sparkled as if he just offered up a huge compliment
instead of simply praising a well cooked meal.
    “Thanks.
It’s my mother’s recipe.” She cut off another bite of her chicken.
    “You’ve
never mentioned your parents before.” He treaded carefully into the topic of
families.
    After
he planted a kiss on her yesterday, he called himself twelve kinds of fool.
Yet, April seemed to take the show of affection in stride. She didn’t harass
him, pressure him, or even