One of his leg braces was held carefully in the German shepherd’s mouth, the dog’s tail wagging cheerfully as he blinked up at him.
“What's up, Sam,” he yawned. “You want me up?”
Sam responded by setting the brace on the bed and turning to fetch the other one.
Rhody pushed himself upright, stretching his arms up over his head with a yawn. A quick glance at the clock showed that it was just after seven, and he allowed himself a moment to blink sleepily at the wall until Sam returned with his other brace.
“Yep, I’m coming.”
Sam sat down at his bedside, watching as he hefted first one leg and then the other over the edge to rest on the floor.
“Need some clothes,” he muttered to himself, rubbing sleep from his eyes as Sam hopped up and walked away, claws skittering on the floor.
Before Rhody could think to look for his sweatpants, Sam had returned to his bedside, said article of clothing in his mouth.
“Thanks, bud,” he groaned, leaning to grab them from the dog. The German Shepherd stood patiently, tail wagging as Rhody maneuvered his legs into the pants and fastened the braces on with a groan. His joints all ached as he leaned over, sore from an unbalanced strain that they were unused to bearing now that his legs didn’t work.
“Sam, I’m getting old,” he confided to the dog as he straightened up again. The German Shepherd gave no reply, and Rhody got slowly to his feet, making his way toward the kitchen.
“Let me check what we’ve got for breakfast. How does sausage and biscuits sound?”
Sam barked, his tail whipping from side to side as he trotted at Rhody’s heels.
Rhody opened the fridge and peered inside, only to remember that he still hadn’t gone shopping, and he closed the door again with a sigh as he let his head rest against the front of it with a groan.
Biscuits from scratch it was.
Well, at least he had sausage.
He ambled sleepily over to the cabinet, digging out the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, shortening, and some spices, and laying them out along the counter before grabbing a wooden spoon from a drawer. He crossed the kitchen to grab a bowl from the drying rack, dodging awkwardly around Sam as the dog stood up on his hind paws to see what was going on at the counter, his tail moving in large, sweeping wags.
He measured approximately two cups of flour into the bowl, going by eye more than by the lines on the measuring cup, the way his mother had taught him. Three big spoonfuls of baking powder, pinch of baking soda, pinch of salt, stir it all together for a minute, and then a heaping spoonful of shortening right in the middle.
Sam let out a confused whine as Rhody started kneading the shortening through the flour, and he looked up with a raised brow.
“What, your Mama never taught you the right way to make biscuits?”
The dog snorted, dropping back to all fours to pace the kitchen in little clicking steps.
“They’re gonna be damn good,” Rhody muttered after the dog. “Just you wait.”
Sam let out one of his whining half-barks that almost sounded like he was speaking, and Rhody couldn’t help the smile that tugged up at his lips.
“What did I say about sassing me?”
Sam didn’t reply, instead going to explore something in the living room as Rhody hobbled to the fridge and retrieved the gallon of milk. Pouring some into the bowl, he mixed until he had a dough, and then began to roll out biscuits and line them up on the counter.
Sam reappeared as he was spraying a cookie sheet down with non-stick, and the dog sneezed as the aerosol butter reached his nose.
“Bless you.”
Sam let out a little snort, returning to wandering the kitchen aimlessly as Rhody started humming some tuneless melody.
Ignoring the German Shepherd that was pacing around him like a shark circling its prey, Rhody turned on the oven and started to line the biscuits up on the tray, spacing them out and pressing them down a little to give them the right shape.
Sam tied to stick his head into the fridge when Rhody went for the sausage, and he scooped an arm around the dog’s chest to pull him back so he wouldn’t get closed in the door.
“Hang on, I’m trying.”
Sam let out a little huff, moving to lie beneath the table with his head on his paws, watching Rhody open up the sausages and load them into a frying pan.
He checked the freezer on a whim and found that he actually had half a bag of frozen, grated hash browns in back, and he turned around to face Sam with the bag held high in victory.
The dog simply tilted his head to the tide in question, and Rhody turned his attention back to cooking with a shrug.
“Well, I’m excited.”
He turned to face the stovetop as he set out another pan for the hash browns, leaning back as the ice on the potatoes made them hiss and pop with the heat. He could hear Sam get up and start moving around behind him, but paid him no attention, focusing instead on breaking up the frozen chunk of hash browns.
The oven beeped as it finally got up to temperature, and Rhody set the spatula aside, wrapping a kitchen towel around his hand to protect it from the heat as he opened the oven door. There was a little scramble of movement from behind him, and Rhody turned around with a frown.
He looked down to find one of the biscuits missing off the corner of the tray, and the sticky sound of something being chewed drew his attention to where Sam was hiding under the table, working his jaw.
“Sam, you damn moron, I have to cook those first,” he called, trying to keep a stern face as Sam struggled to gnaw through the raw dough. The dog shot him a look that was not apologetic in the least, swallowing the dough in a large lump.
Shaking his head, Rhody slipped the tray into the oven and gave the frying pan another shake to move the sausage around.
“You’re gonna make yourself sick.”
Rhody left the pan to sizzle over the heat and poked his head into the cabinet, looking through the sparse, half-empty spice jars. Shopping trip needed to happen today, definitely.
He didn’t have any onions, so onion powder was going to have to do, and he set out the required jars on the counter before moving to add a number of spices to the grocery list he’d started last night. That done, he returned his attention to the stove, grabbing up his spatula once more.
He fished a little piece of potato out of the pan, blowing on it to cool it off before tasting it, and turned to grab the salt from the counter behind him. His arm was outstretched too far, however, and he knocked it off of the counter as he reached for it.
“Shit,” Rhody muttered, turning to look for the salt shaker as he heard it roll away.
The floor behind him was clear when he checked, however, and he was just about to try to crouch low enough to search beneath the table when he felt something cold and wet press against his hand.
He turned to find Sam sitting at his feet, offering the salt shaker back to him with a wagging tail.
“Hey, thanks,” he grinned. “You're a great help, you know that?”
Sam dropped the salt shaker into his hand and barked.
“Or are you just trying to make me hurry my ass up and get you some food?”
Sam simply continued to sit at his side, wagging his tail expectantly, and Rhody huffed out a laugh.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
He shook a generous amount of salt on the hash browns, adding some pepper, garlic powder, onion powder, and a touch of chili powder to the pan as well. The resulting smell was enough to make his mouth water, and he stirred everything around to make sure that all the potato shreds were well and fully coated in the spices.
“Tell you what, Sam, for not having any food in the house, I think this is gonna turn out damn tasty.”
The dog made a small noise of eager anticipation from behind him, and Rhody grinned, stirring the pot again.
He took a moment to shift the pan that the sausage was in, dropping the heat down to keep it warm as the other two things finished up. A little while later, the oven went off with a beep, and when Rhody turned to fetch the kitchen towel he found Sam already sitting at his feet, the cloth held gently in his mouth.
“You're helping me out, aren't you?” Rhody asked, ruffling the German shepherd’s ears as he wrapped the towel around his hand. “Thanks, bud.”
Being careful of the door, he eased the tray of biscuits out of the oven, setting them on the stovetop to cool a little as he turned off the heat.
“Almost ready, Sam, I promise,” he grinned as he felt the dog press against his side. “You great big black hole, you…”
The German Shepherd snorted at that, turning to go seat himself in one of the chairs at the table, tail wagging as he waited to be served.
Rhody dropped two of the biscuits onto a plate, scooping up a generous helping of the hash browns and sausage to load on top before finally crossing to the dog and setting it down in front of him.
“Here you are, your majesty,” he laughed, ruffling Sam’s ears before going back to grab a serving for himself. “Try to remember to breathe between bites.
Despite the warning, Sam had already cleared half his plate by the time Rhody had turned off the oven and made his way back to the table with his own plate full of food.
Sam glanced up at him, licking his lips as his tail wagged happily, and Rhody smiled.
“Told you it was gonna be good.”
The dog nodded, returning to his breakfast. Without further distraction, Rhody picked up his form and dug in as well.
The two remained relatively quiet throughout their meal, simply enjoying the food and each other’s company as the sounds of their neighbors waking up in the apartments around them drifted through the walls.
A timid knock on his front door interrupted them halfway through their meal, and Rhody stuffed one final forkful of sausage in his mouth before beginning the slow process of getting to his feet and making his way toward the main hall.
He opened the door to find his landlady – a short, elderly white woman with coke-bottle glasses and a round face – smiling up at him.
“Good morning, Mrs. Carvers,” he said, subtly wiping crumbs off of his hand on the back of his pants, aware that he probably looked like he’d just dragged his ass out of bed. “What can I do for you?”
“Good morning, Mister Rhodes,” she said, her expression giving nothing away. “I just had a complaint from Mr. Liu upstairs about you breaking the apartment code. He claims that you have an unregistered pet living in the apartment.”
Rhody mentally cursed his upstairs neighbor, the nosy old bastard.
“Um,” Rhody choked out. “Well, you see-“
And of course, that was the moment that Sam decided to waltz around the damn corner to come see what was going on.
“Oh, look at you!” his landlady cooed, and Rhody stepped back out of the doorway to let her by as she made a beeline for Sam. “What a sweet puppy…who’s a good boy?”
Sam’s ears perked in surprise as he suddenly found his face grabbed up, but his tail began wagging sheepishly as the elderly woman began planting kisses on his muzzle and head, cooing compliments at him.
“What a pretty boy you are…oh yes, what a good boy.”
“I just got him last night,” Rhody lied, taking advantage of her distraction to get his thoughts in order. “Office was closed by the time I got back, so I planned to take him down first thing this morning and register him.”
In all honesty he’d forgotten about needing to register Sam, but at least Mrs. Carvers seemed to like him, so perhaps she’d let it slide.
“It was kind of a last-minute thing,” he shrugged, watching her ruffle Sam’s ears.
“That’s wonderful. Is he going to be your service dog?”
“Yes,” Rhody replied quickly, jumping on the excuse the second she presented it. “He’s here to help me out with everything. Pick things up and open doors and stuff.”
“That’s so good to hear.”
“Yeah, it’s gonna be a big help.”
“He’s such a good boy.”
“Yeah, he really is.”
“I’m glad they finally came through with something to assist you,” his landlady smiled, straightening up and patting him on the arm as she made her way to the door, Sam trailing at her heels and still looking to be petted. “I’ll have Linda prepare the paperwork and leave it in your mailbox. Just be sure to keep him on a leash outside, and he needs to have his collar and some type of identification on at all times.”
“Yes, Ma’am. I’ll make sure that happens, Ma’am. Thank you for stopping by.”
He waved to the woman as she hobbled off down the sidewalk, then closed the door and turned to Sam with a raised eyebrow.
“You should have kept your ass in the kitchen. What if there was a no-dog policy here, huh?”
Sam let out a snort, turning to make his way back over to the table as Rhody watched him leave, shaking his head.
The rest of breakfast went by fairly quietly, with only the occasional whine from Sam as he begged for more. Afterward, the dog sat at his feet, licking grease from his muzzle happily as Rhody cleared their plates away.
Rhody glanced down at himself, debating for a second if he should go change before figuring that sweatpants and a ratty t-shirt would be considered clothing enough to drop by the front office in.
“Come on, Sam,” he sighed as the dog vanished into the living room. “Let’s get down to the office and get you registered.”
Sam returned a moment later, meeting Rhody in the walkway with one of his shoes in his mouth, and set it at his feet before running off to retrieve the other. He brought his leash in next, just as Rhody was finishing tying the laces, and he clipped it onto the dog’s collar before pushing himself awkwardly to his feet.
“Okay. I’m good. Let’s go.”
The air outside was a little crisp still, the sun just having finished burning the dew off of every surface, and he took a long moment to bask in the warmth as Sam sniffed around his front lawn curiously.
The scratch of dirt from behind him had Rhody turning around a second later, and he whistled sharply at Sam when he found the dog eyeball-deep in his front garden.
“Hey! Get your nose out of my strawberries! You want to dig something up, go dig up the stupid flowers that Mr. Liu is growing in front of the tomato trellis.”
Sam sat up, his had tilting comically as he considered this for a moment, and Rhody had to bite back a laugh as Sam trotted over to the orange flowers and began heaving up pawfuls of soil.
“Easy now, not too much. I was kidding. That dude’s already got it out for you. Just dig up a couple. We’ll bring them to the lady at the front desk.”
Sam obligingly grabbed the few snapped stems up in his mouth, trotting back to Rhody’s side to drop them in his hand, and Rhody felt a big smile creeping over his face.
"You know, Sam,” he said, scratching the dog behind an ear before turning to lead the way to the main office. “I should get you a service animal vest.”
The German Shepherd snorted, but his tail was wagging frantically as he padded patiently along at Rhody’s side.
“Let’s see that nosy old jerk get on our case then, huh?”
FILL: Shifted (31/?)
One of his leg braces was held carefully in the German shepherd’s mouth, the dog’s tail wagging cheerfully as he blinked up at him.
“What's up, Sam,” he yawned. “You want me up?”
Sam responded by setting the brace on the bed and turning to fetch the other one.
Rhody pushed himself upright, stretching his arms up over his head with a yawn. A quick glance at the clock showed that it was just after seven, and he allowed himself a moment to blink sleepily at the wall until Sam returned with his other brace.
“Yep, I’m coming.”
Sam sat down at his bedside, watching as he hefted first one leg and then the other over the edge to rest on the floor.
“Need some clothes,” he muttered to himself, rubbing sleep from his eyes as Sam hopped up and walked away, claws skittering on the floor.
Before Rhody could think to look for his sweatpants, Sam had returned to his bedside, said article of clothing in his mouth.
“Thanks, bud,” he groaned, leaning to grab them from the dog. The German Shepherd stood patiently, tail wagging as Rhody maneuvered his legs into the pants and fastened the braces on with a groan. His joints all ached as he leaned over, sore from an unbalanced strain that they were unused to bearing now that his legs didn’t work.
“Sam, I’m getting old,” he confided to the dog as he straightened up again. The German Shepherd gave no reply, and Rhody got slowly to his feet, making his way toward the kitchen.
“Let me check what we’ve got for breakfast. How does sausage and biscuits sound?”
Sam barked, his tail whipping from side to side as he trotted at Rhody’s heels.
Rhody opened the fridge and peered inside, only to remember that he still hadn’t gone shopping, and he closed the door again with a sigh as he let his head rest against the front of it with a groan.
Biscuits from scratch it was.
Well, at least he had sausage.
He ambled sleepily over to the cabinet, digging out the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, shortening, and some spices, and laying them out along the counter before grabbing a wooden spoon from a drawer. He crossed the kitchen to grab a bowl from the drying rack, dodging awkwardly around Sam as the dog stood up on his hind paws to see what was going on at the counter, his tail moving in large, sweeping wags.
He measured approximately two cups of flour into the bowl, going by eye more than by the lines on the measuring cup, the way his mother had taught him. Three big spoonfuls of baking powder, pinch of baking soda, pinch of salt, stir it all together for a minute, and then a heaping spoonful of shortening right in the middle.
Sam let out a confused whine as Rhody started kneading the shortening through the flour, and he looked up with a raised brow.
“What, your Mama never taught you the right way to make biscuits?”
The dog snorted, dropping back to all fours to pace the kitchen in little clicking steps.
“They’re gonna be damn good,” Rhody muttered after the dog. “Just you wait.”
Sam let out one of his whining half-barks that almost sounded like he was speaking, and Rhody couldn’t help the smile that tugged up at his lips.
“What did I say about sassing me?”
Sam didn’t reply, instead going to explore something in the living room as Rhody hobbled to the fridge and retrieved the gallon of milk. Pouring some into the bowl, he mixed until he had a dough, and then began to roll out biscuits and line them up on the counter.
Sam reappeared as he was spraying a cookie sheet down with non-stick, and the dog sneezed as the aerosol butter reached his nose.
“Bless you.”
Sam let out a little snort, returning to wandering the kitchen aimlessly as Rhody started humming some tuneless melody.
Ignoring the German Shepherd that was pacing around him like a shark circling its prey, Rhody turned on the oven and started to line the biscuits up on the tray, spacing them out and pressing them down a little to give them the right shape.
Sam tied to stick his head into the fridge when Rhody went for the sausage, and he scooped an arm around the dog’s chest to pull him back so he wouldn’t get closed in the door.
“Hang on, I’m trying.”
Sam let out a little huff, moving to lie beneath the table with his head on his paws, watching Rhody open up the sausages and load them into a frying pan.
He checked the freezer on a whim and found that he actually had half a bag of frozen, grated hash browns in back, and he turned around to face Sam with the bag held high in victory.
The dog simply tilted his head to the tide in question, and Rhody turned his attention back to cooking with a shrug.
“Well, I’m excited.”
He turned to face the stovetop as he set out another pan for the hash browns, leaning back as the ice on the potatoes made them hiss and pop with the heat. He could hear Sam get up and start moving around behind him, but paid him no attention, focusing instead on breaking up the frozen chunk of hash browns.
The oven beeped as it finally got up to temperature, and Rhody set the spatula aside, wrapping a kitchen towel around his hand to protect it from the heat as he opened the oven door. There was a little scramble of movement from behind him, and Rhody turned around with a frown.
He looked down to find one of the biscuits missing off the corner of the tray, and the sticky sound of something being chewed drew his attention to where Sam was hiding under the table, working his jaw.
“Sam, you damn moron, I have to cook those first,” he called, trying to keep a stern face as Sam struggled to gnaw through the raw dough. The dog shot him a look that was not apologetic in the least, swallowing the dough in a large lump.
Shaking his head, Rhody slipped the tray into the oven and gave the frying pan another shake to move the sausage around.
“You’re gonna make yourself sick.”
Rhody left the pan to sizzle over the heat and poked his head into the cabinet, looking through the sparse, half-empty spice jars. Shopping trip needed to happen today, definitely.
He didn’t have any onions, so onion powder was going to have to do, and he set out the required jars on the counter before moving to add a number of spices to the grocery list he’d started last night. That done, he returned his attention to the stove, grabbing up his spatula once more.
He fished a little piece of potato out of the pan, blowing on it to cool it off before tasting it, and turned to grab the salt from the counter behind him. His arm was outstretched too far, however, and he knocked it off of the counter as he reached for it.
“Shit,” Rhody muttered, turning to look for the salt shaker as he heard it roll away.
The floor behind him was clear when he checked, however, and he was just about to try to crouch low enough to search beneath the table when he felt something cold and wet press against his hand.
He turned to find Sam sitting at his feet, offering the salt shaker back to him with a wagging tail.
“Hey, thanks,” he grinned. “You're a great help, you know that?”
Sam dropped the salt shaker into his hand and barked.
“Or are you just trying to make me hurry my ass up and get you some food?”
Sam simply continued to sit at his side, wagging his tail expectantly, and Rhody huffed out a laugh.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
He shook a generous amount of salt on the hash browns, adding some pepper, garlic powder, onion powder, and a touch of chili powder to the pan as well. The resulting smell was enough to make his mouth water, and he stirred everything around to make sure that all the potato shreds were well and fully coated in the spices.
“Tell you what, Sam, for not having any food in the house, I think this is gonna turn out damn tasty.”
The dog made a small noise of eager anticipation from behind him, and Rhody grinned, stirring the pot again.
He took a moment to shift the pan that the sausage was in, dropping the heat down to keep it warm as the other two things finished up. A little while later, the oven went off with a beep, and when Rhody turned to fetch the kitchen towel he found Sam already sitting at his feet, the cloth held gently in his mouth.
“You're helping me out, aren't you?” Rhody asked, ruffling the German shepherd’s ears as he wrapped the towel around his hand. “Thanks, bud.”
Being careful of the door, he eased the tray of biscuits out of the oven, setting them on the stovetop to cool a little as he turned off the heat.
“Almost ready, Sam, I promise,” he grinned as he felt the dog press against his side. “You great big black hole, you…”
The German Shepherd snorted at that, turning to go seat himself in one of the chairs at the table, tail wagging as he waited to be served.
Rhody dropped two of the biscuits onto a plate, scooping up a generous helping of the hash browns and sausage to load on top before finally crossing to the dog and setting it down in front of him.
“Here you are, your majesty,” he laughed, ruffling Sam’s ears before going back to grab a serving for himself. “Try to remember to breathe between bites.
Despite the warning, Sam had already cleared half his plate by the time Rhody had turned off the oven and made his way back to the table with his own plate full of food.
Sam glanced up at him, licking his lips as his tail wagged happily, and Rhody smiled.
“Told you it was gonna be good.”
The dog nodded, returning to his breakfast. Without further distraction, Rhody picked up his form and dug in as well.
The two remained relatively quiet throughout their meal, simply enjoying the food and each other’s company as the sounds of their neighbors waking up in the apartments around them drifted through the walls.
A timid knock on his front door interrupted them halfway through their meal, and Rhody stuffed one final forkful of sausage in his mouth before beginning the slow process of getting to his feet and making his way toward the main hall.
He opened the door to find his landlady – a short, elderly white woman with coke-bottle glasses and a round face – smiling up at him.
“Good morning, Mrs. Carvers,” he said, subtly wiping crumbs off of his hand on the back of his pants, aware that he probably looked like he’d just dragged his ass out of bed. “What can I do for you?”
“Good morning, Mister Rhodes,” she said, her expression giving nothing away. “I just had a complaint from Mr. Liu upstairs about you breaking the apartment code. He claims that you have an unregistered pet living in the apartment.”
Rhody mentally cursed his upstairs neighbor, the nosy old bastard.
“Um,” Rhody choked out. “Well, you see-“
And of course, that was the moment that Sam decided to waltz around the damn corner to come see what was going on.
“Oh, look at you!” his landlady cooed, and Rhody stepped back out of the doorway to let her by as she made a beeline for Sam. “What a sweet puppy…who’s a good boy?”
Sam’s ears perked in surprise as he suddenly found his face grabbed up, but his tail began wagging sheepishly as the elderly woman began planting kisses on his muzzle and head, cooing compliments at him.
“What a pretty boy you are…oh yes, what a good boy.”
“I just got him last night,” Rhody lied, taking advantage of her distraction to get his thoughts in order. “Office was closed by the time I got back, so I planned to take him down first thing this morning and register him.”
In all honesty he’d forgotten about needing to register Sam, but at least Mrs. Carvers seemed to like him, so perhaps she’d let it slide.
“It was kind of a last-minute thing,” he shrugged, watching her ruffle Sam’s ears.
“That’s wonderful. Is he going to be your service dog?”
“Yes,” Rhody replied quickly, jumping on the excuse the second she presented it. “He’s here to help me out with everything. Pick things up and open doors and stuff.”
“That’s so good to hear.”
“Yeah, it’s gonna be a big help.”
“He’s such a good boy.”
“Yeah, he really is.”
“I’m glad they finally came through with something to assist you,” his landlady smiled, straightening up and patting him on the arm as she made her way to the door, Sam trailing at her heels and still looking to be petted. “I’ll have Linda prepare the paperwork and leave it in your mailbox. Just be sure to keep him on a leash outside, and he needs to have his collar and some type of identification on at all times.”
“Yes, Ma’am. I’ll make sure that happens, Ma’am. Thank you for stopping by.”
He waved to the woman as she hobbled off down the sidewalk, then closed the door and turned to Sam with a raised eyebrow.
“You should have kept your ass in the kitchen. What if there was a no-dog policy here, huh?”
Sam let out a snort, turning to make his way back over to the table as Rhody watched him leave, shaking his head.
The rest of breakfast went by fairly quietly, with only the occasional whine from Sam as he begged for more. Afterward, the dog sat at his feet, licking grease from his muzzle happily as Rhody cleared their plates away.
Rhody glanced down at himself, debating for a second if he should go change before figuring that sweatpants and a ratty t-shirt would be considered clothing enough to drop by the front office in.
“Come on, Sam,” he sighed as the dog vanished into the living room. “Let’s get down to the office and get you registered.”
Sam returned a moment later, meeting Rhody in the walkway with one of his shoes in his mouth, and set it at his feet before running off to retrieve the other. He brought his leash in next, just as Rhody was finishing tying the laces, and he clipped it onto the dog’s collar before pushing himself awkwardly to his feet.
“Okay. I’m good. Let’s go.”
The air outside was a little crisp still, the sun just having finished burning the dew off of every surface, and he took a long moment to bask in the warmth as Sam sniffed around his front lawn curiously.
The scratch of dirt from behind him had Rhody turning around a second later, and he whistled sharply at Sam when he found the dog eyeball-deep in his front garden.
“Hey! Get your nose out of my strawberries! You want to dig something up, go dig up the stupid flowers that Mr. Liu is growing in front of the tomato trellis.”
Sam sat up, his had tilting comically as he considered this for a moment, and Rhody had to bite back a laugh as Sam trotted over to the orange flowers and began heaving up pawfuls of soil.
“Easy now, not too much. I was kidding. That dude’s already got it out for you. Just dig up a couple. We’ll bring them to the lady at the front desk.”
Sam obligingly grabbed the few snapped stems up in his mouth, trotting back to Rhody’s side to drop them in his hand, and Rhody felt a big smile creeping over his face.
"You know, Sam,” he said, scratching the dog behind an ear before turning to lead the way to the main office. “I should get you a service animal vest.”
The German Shepherd snorted, but his tail was wagging frantically as he padded patiently along at Rhody’s side.
“Let’s see that nosy old jerk get on our case then, huh?”
Sam barked once in reply, and Rhody just laughed.