Page 1 of SEAL of Valor

Chapter 1

Reese

Terror stares up at me, wide brown eyes trusting as I lean forward and pat him on the head. The complete opposite of his name—at least in my opinion—the French Bulldog is a rescue who seems to be struggling with adapting to his new environment.

“I’ve tried everything, Dr. Faye. I cannot get him to eat anything.” The woman sitting in front of me is a fresh-out-of-college blonde with her hair in a messy bun, her grey eyes shimmering with emotion. “I’ve never had a dog before, and I just don’t know how I’m messing this up. I read all the books before I got him, but he just stopped eating out of the blue. Maybe he doesn’t like me?” Her bottom lip quivers at the thought.

“Honey, it is not that at all.” I offer her a kind smile, then look back at the notes Emmy gave when she called to book her new dog with my practice. “It looks like it’s been about a month since you adopted him?”

“Yes. He’s just so sweet, too. I’m going to change his name, but I didn’t want to do too much at once. The shelter said that when he was brought in, he wouldn’t even get off his bed. He was eating at first, but then he just stopped.”

“Depression is common in dogs turned over to the shelter,” I say sadly. “He is old enough to have remembered his previous owners and likely doesn’t understand why they turned him in.” It makes me sick to think about it. I mean, I understand that life can change in the blink of an eye—boy, do I know that—but to just give this little guy up once he’s no longer in the puppy phase is such garbage.

I can still recall how troubled my sweet boy was when I adopted him. A black, long-haired German Shepherd puppy who was given up when he’d gotten a little bigger than they’d wanted.

“Poor baby,” Emmy whimpers. “I’m trying everything.”

Her emotions are all over the place, and I imagine it has to do with a lot more than her new dog. He’s simply the catalyst. “Have there been any changes in your life recently?”

She sniffles. “My boyfriend left two days ago.” Her bottom lip quivers. “Sorry, is it that obvious?” She wipes her fingers beneath her eyes.

“Was Terror eating before?”

Emmy considers my question; then her eyes get wide. “He was! Not much, but at least something. The last couple of days are when it’s gotten really bad. He just lies there and stares at me all day and night.”

I rub the dog’s head, then reach into the cabinet for my can of spray peanut butter for dogs. After applying some on top of a treat, I set it down in front of Terror. He sniffs it, then carefully licks the top.

“Did you see that!” Emmy squeals. “He likes it!”

Terror looks up at her, then wags his little tail before eating the treat.

“How did you do that?” she asks me, her gaze locking on me like I used magic to coerce her dog into eating, and she wants my secret.

“Honey, I think Terror is feeling some of your stress. It is my professional opinion that he loves you so much he’s depressed right alongside you.”

“Really?” Her eyes fill again, and a tear slips out as she stares at me, then looks down at her dog. “I feel so bad. This whole time, it was my fault.”

I smile. “It’s not your fault. Animals are sensitive to our feelings. They love us far more than we deserve.” After making some notes in his file, I toss the can of spray peanut butter and a few treats into a bag, then offer it to her. “Add a little to his food and set it next to you so he doesn’t have to leave your side to eat. If it doesn’t get any better, let me know, and we can run some tests. But as far as I can tell, you have a sensitive little love bug here who is in desperate need of a new name.”

Emmy laughs softly and wipes her eyes. “I couldn’t agree more.”

Terror wags his butt and walks toward her, clearly happy to see her smiling. She lifts him into her arms, then takes the bag.

“Thank you so much, Dr. Faye.”

“You are so welcome, Emmy. Call if you need anything, okay?” I open the exam room door so she can head out to the receptionist’s desk. Then, after one final wave, I close it and head back through the rear exit of the exam room.

The aroma of cleaner and air freshener hits my nose. It’s become so familiar to me over the years that I barely notice it. However, the budding headache I’ve had all morning doesn’t seem too keen on the heavy scents.

“Little guy okay?” Ash asks as she looks up from where she’s sitting behind a computer. Her dark hair has been colored at the tips and pulled back from her face. Black-rimmed glasses are perched on her nose, but she slides them up further.

Since it’s still early on a Saturday, Ash, Kendra—our receptionist—and I are the only ones on staff today. Normally, we’re closed, but once a month, we run for half a day. I don’t mind it, given how desperate I am to keep my mind occupied these days.

“He is. Depressed on behalf of his new owner.”

“Sweet boy. He needs a new name,” she comments, turning back to the computer to finish whatever it was she was typing.

“Yeah, her boyfriend left her two days ago, and she’s been struggling. Seems like he’s feeling it right alongside her.”