The Chad

GARTH POTTER leaned against the front of his truck and used the scooper thingy of his Chuckit to pick up the ball at his feet.

"Alrighty, Chad," he told his giant furry friend, "You ready for one last chase?"

Chad gave the sad eyes—but then given his heritage, sad eyes were pretty much his specialty.

"Two?" Garth asked, winding up for the toss before letting loose with a good, long chuck. He could get some distance with the Chuckit, but then, Chad had a twelve-foot stride when he was running full out. Great Dane mixed with Rottweiler and some mastiff, Garth suspected, glad for the short hair and hybrid vigor. Pure bred dogs this big often ended up with hip problems and sore joints way too early, but Chad was six years old and going strong.

But part of that might have been that Chad lived a very active life, accompanying Garth in his landscaping business. Anybody who hired Garth had to hire Chad too. The big doofus traveled with him from job to job. In the summer Garth gave him his blanket and a bowl of water, tying him up in the shade if the job was in the front yard or letting him roam if it was an enclosed backyard. Chad was the mellowest dog Garth had ever met. He'd been assaulted by little tiny yappy things on nearly a daily basis, and mostly he just ambled away. When he was extremely irritated, he put his paw on top of the thing's head and let it go when it stopped making noise. Give Chad and nearly any dog a chance, and they could be friends.

Garth was a lot pickier about his friends, which was kind of why he was leaning against the truck's hood and pensively throwing his dog the ball in the cold of this frigidly gray October day.

What was it with this day anyway? He stared at the sky unhappily. Usually this part of California had brilliant hot and golden falls that didn't taper off into drizzle and sadness until November, if then. But not today. Today hadn't dawned, it had gray-scaled through the window of his house—his parents' old house—and his mood with it.

God, he needed to get laid.

Normally that wasn't a problem. He wasn't vain. He knew tanned muscles and sunbleached brown hair weren't exactly man-repellent, and he'd developed an easy way of talking to people since he'd taken over his father's landscaping business. And yes, he had enacted the famous porn scenario of "Hello, blue collar worker, would you like to come inside for a glass of lemonade?" more than once without… well, there had been a couple of regrets. He'd started to ask, for instance, if there was a husband or boyfriend lurking about when the initial seduction began, particularly one who paid the bills. He was trying to run a business, dammit, and trading a job for a blowjob did not help one damned bit.

Besides, it was sleazy.

He enjoyed a little bit of no-strings sex as much as the next guy, but being someone's sidepiece was… well, demeaning.

So he hadn't done it for a while, and while he'd felt better for it, particularly in the self-respect department, he'd also started to feel…

A little like this day. Depressed and gray scale and not at all like his usual warm October self.

Of course Chad did help warm him up. The big doofus's long-limbed lope gave him a grace that a dog as big as Chad didn't usually possess, and watching him chase after the ball was a joy. And it was always nice when the park was empty, the big soccer fields on either side of the picnic rise vacant and waiting for a dog to enjoy all that space.

Garth frowned when he heard the shrill barking of a smaller dog and wondered where it was. Poor Chad. Garth tried to shield his awkward friend from all those intrusive yappers, but some people… oh hell.

Up over the picnic rise, a small, muscular blond bullet of a dog was stretching out gracefully, charging toward Chad like she was a torpedo and he was an awkward submarine.

Chad kept loping, because hey, there was a ball involved, and suddenly the dog was upon him, bigger than a Chihuahua but smaller than a real dog, her bark hysterical and fierce, and Garth was worried that Chad might react—or get hurt.

Shit ! Where was this dog's owner? What kind of asshole let his dog get loose in a park without a leash when—

" Julia !" came a frantic cry, and Garth's attention was jerked back to the crest of a hill where a thin, fey figure in faded pajama pants and an old high school sweatshirt was running, elbows flopping crazily, spider legs churning like a drunken cartoon character's as he spun down the hill heading for the snarling blond dog. " Julia ! " he cried again. "You leave that good dog alone! He is not a turkey!"

Garth would have wondered at that, but Chad had actually stopped his run and was analyzing the idiot creature with a bewildered expression on his long-schnozzed, jowly face. Garth's urgency to defend his dog doubled when Chad put his paw on the smaller dog's head and pulled out his last resort.

He woofed.

As a rule of thumb, a 120-pound dog has a 360-pound woof.

The little blond bullet let out a shriek and a snarl and went running right back up the hill. With a whimper she bounded right into the arms of her fey owner, who was likely not expecting an armload of titanic small dog and got clocked in the chin, sat abruptly on his ass, and held on to her, shaking.

"Julia," he ordered, sounding more woebegone than he had a right to considering his stupid dog had attacked and was now snarling in his arms, trying to get back into the fray. "No!"

To Garth's immense relief, the ragamuffin elf produced a leash, which he latched on to his dog's collar, and then—almost instinctively—he cupped his hand over the dog's nape.

" Julia !" he snapped, his voice assuming an authority Garth hadn't seen before. "I said leave it !"

To Garth's surprise, the dog subsided, a low growling emanating from her throat but with no physical attempts to defy her person's command.

Once the dog was in control, the ragamuffin elf, still sitting on the ground, glanced up and took the situation in with a sort of despair that actually wrenched at Garth's heart.

"I'm sorry," he croaked. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You were just doing your thing, and my stupid dog comes roaring down here. I'm sorry. I should have checked. See, last time it was turkeys, and she… and she went bowling for the dumb birds, and she was so happy, and they scattered, and she frolicked, and I hadn't seen anybody frolic for so long, and… and it was wrong, but she was so happy . And then I looked up, and…."

The elf did something surprising then that sort of made Garth forgive him on the spot. "Oh, you good big dog. I'm so sorry. She's small and afraid, and she's been abandoned, and I shouldn't have let her come bother you. You poor good boy. Don't be so sad. This was not your fault." At his monologue, Julia-the-blond-bullet had calmed down enough to glare at Chad, and Chad contented himself with searching for the ball, which had been the object of this whole encounter in the first place.

Garth had to shake himself to answer. "Don't worry about it," he said, striding forward to offer his hand to the man—who at second glance was not as young as he'd first appeared. "He always looks sad. I think it's a breed specialty."

The elf squinted up at him through a truly stunning pair of brown eyes set in a delicate face with wide cheekbones and a point of a chin. "What breed is he?" he asked, blinking rapidly when he realized Garth was offering him a hand up. "And thank you, but I don't want Julia to growl at you. She…." He frowned at her. "She gets weirdly protective."

Garth laughed a little and stepped back, giving them room so the elf could scramble to his feet, the dog at his heels.

"You haven't had her long," he said, and it wasn't a guess. Everything about this encounter indicated a new pet/owner relationship.

"No." The elf stood up and dusted fruitlessly at his ass, turning around in a circle, the dog following curiously, as he tried to get a gander at his own bum.

"It's wet," Garth confirmed. "The grass was pretty dewy this morning."

The elf's sigh was heartfelt. "Figures," his new friend grumbled. He glanced back up at Garth. "I'm sorry," he said again. "I'm really sorry. I've imposed on your time too much."

But Garth was reluctant to let this new, interesting friend go. While the day remained cloudy, there seemed to be a bright spot of sunshine right over the rather fragile, spider-legged creature who, while not great at pet ownership, appeared to want to improve.

"Wait," he said. "What did you mean by ‘bowling for turkeys'?"

The other man blinked. "Uhm… well, see, I'd never walked a dog before," he confessed rather nakedly. "And our first times out, she'd stop every time the leash fell across her butt. It was…." He swallowed and gazed at Garth beseechingly. "She almost killed me at least thirteen times, you understand. And I knew she knew her name—she comes in when I call her from the backyard. But… you saw her run." He gave a wistful smile. "She's so fast. She really loves to run fast. So there wasn't anybody here, and I let her off the lead, and she came over the hill, and there were all these… you know. Turkeys. Wild turkeys."

Garth could see it. The turkeys were a neighborhood hazard… erm, feature. They nested in parks and vacant lots and then wandered around neighborhoods crapping on rooftops and driveways and front lawns. He looked at Julia, who contrary to her early aggressiveness, was sticking to her person's heels with a rather touching display of solidarity.

"She chased them," Garth said, laughing a little.

" Nyeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrrow boom !" Julia's owner held out his arms and did an impressive impersonation of a dive bomber taking out feathered enemies. "It was so exciting. I mean, I was terrified, because, you know. If she was any smaller, they'd be velociraptors, and any bigger, they'd be lunch. But all she did was chase them and watch them scatter and…." He smiled wistfully, as though he would never capture this moment again. "Went bowling, like she was the ball and they were the pins. She was so happy," he said apologetically. "I'm sorry. That's probably terrible of me. I just…." He swallowed. "I guess I needed to see somebody happy, you know? But not if she's going to come after your dog. I'll keep her on the leash from now on."

Garth's smile twisted. "But won't she kill you?" he teased softly.

There was a delicate, heartbreaking shrug. "At least it will look like an accident," Julia's owner said.

And now it was Garth's heart that twisted. He stuck out his hand and said, "I'm Garth Potter. And—" He indicated his dog, who with impeccable timing had brought him the ball. "—this is Chad. Sometimes , mostly just Chad. Would you like us to walk you around the loop again, and maybe we can see if we can get Julia used to the leash… and other dogs."

"But what if she snarls?" the other man said, and then belatedly he took Garth's hand and shook, his grip firmer than Garth expected. "Milo. Milo Tanaka. I'm sorry. She sounded so terrifying. I was so afraid she'd hurt your dog, and then your dog would defend himself and…." He grimaced. "I mean, he could, uhm, snort her like a bump of coke."

Garth snickered at the image and batted Chad away as he nuzzled Garth's hand with the ball. "He doesn't do Chihuahua anymore," he said with a straight face. "The high doesn't last that long, and the comedown is awful."

Milo—and it was such an appropriate name—laughed softly back. "Terrible analogy, I know," he conceded. "I'm just saying, the heart attack I had when she was going after him…." He shook his head. "I have so much to learn."

"Well, come on," Garth said, reaching to the top of his truck where Chad's lead sat. "Chad's had enough excitement for one day, and I've got half an hour before my next appointment. That's fifteen minutes to walk with you and ten minutes to get there."

"What about the other five?" Milo asked.

"Coffee and a Pup Cup," Garth said seriously "What else?"

"What's a Pup Cup?" Milo asked, and Garth felt his chuckle come from deep in his belly.

"Oh boy, do you have some things to learn."

Milo blinked at him, looking dismayed again, and Garth gentled his expression, not wanting to scare his fey, elfin little friend away.

"Don't worry, Milo. Most of it is good. You've learned the hard stuff—use a lead unless you're at a small dog play park, no more bowling for turkeys, and no bowling for Chads either—it freaks him out."

"Small dog play park?" Milo asked, sounding bewildered. "Are there, like, swings and stuff?"

Garth hooked Chad's lead and then gently took Milo's elbow. "Come along, Milo. We've got fifteen minutes for you to ask me all the questions you want."

As he steered his new friend up the grassy rise to the walkway that looped around the park, he thought he could see the barest hint of sun peeking out.

BY THE time they'd walked half the loop—because Julia did stop every time the leash even touched her backside, and they had to work at making the leash shorter so she stuck directly to Milo's heels—Garth almost wouldn't have enough time to stop for coffee, but being late would have been worth it.

Milo was every bit as shy as he'd appeared at first glance, but he was also every bit as funny. In addition to "bowling for turkeys" and the drug of choice for giant dogs, Milo also talked about how dogs checked up on the pee wall—erm, the retaining wall that most of the dogs used as a urinal—to see how their friends were doing.

"That spot right there," he'd say seriously. "There is a very popular dog who pees right there under the rose bush."

"Lots of comments?" Garth asked, smiling. Chad was taking advantage of Julia's fixation with that spot to huff the same area, and Julia gave him nervous side-eye while they enjoyed the nuanced bouquet of some strange dog's pee.

"That dog's been places," Milo confirmed before giving Julia's lead a gentle tug. "Come on ," he ordered. "We can't take forever here."

"So are you walking her before work? After work? During lunch?" Garth asked, none too subtly.

"I work from home four days a week," Milo said. "This is our midmorning break. Or at least that's what I'm trying to make it." He shook his head. "I need to get some of her energy out or she'll break me by bringing me the squeaky."

"Have you tried throwing the squeaky to her on the soccer field?" Garth asked. It seemed like that would have been the perfect solution.

But Milo's face got this bewildered, irritated expression, and he shook his head. "She… she refuses to fetch the squeaky in the park," he said.

"How dare she!" Garth replied, and Milo nodded his head without the slightest bit of play.

"It's infuriating . In the house she'll chase the ball until my arms fall off, and I'm ambidextrous. I'm throwing with both hands for a good half hour, and she's still ready to go. But outside, when I can really wind up?"

"No dice?" Garth asked.

"Apparently she only likes clean balls," Milo said with a completely straight face—and a fair amount of indignation.

Garth didn't have such luck. "Well, she's a very wise woman," he chortled and saw when Milo got the joke as a flush washed from his neck to the roots of his hair.

"Oh God," he murmured faintly. "I said that. I actually said she won't lick dirty balls."

Garth laughed some more. "That's not what you said at first , but not what you just said now !"

Milo moaned faintly, covered his eyes with his hand, and in doing so, inadvertently laid the leash gently across Julia's backside. She stopped, and he tripped on her and almost went sprawling, and if Garth hadn't saved him with a hand under his elbow, the damned dog might have succeeded in killing Milo and making it look like an accident.

"Easy there," Garth murmured, pleased when Milo didn't jerk away. While Garth didn't usually succumb to stereotypes, his onboard gaydar was gleefully broadcasting that Milo was very much his type.

But his other instincts, which were usually as finely honed as Chad's gentle-giant techniques for deescalating conflict, also told him that Milo was wounded—had been wounded for quite some time—and like Chad, Garth knew that you had to treat wounded creatures with care.

"God, I'm a mess," Milo muttered. He'd taken his hand from his eyes and was adjusting the leash again so Julia could trot at his side in rhythm. "I usually deal very well with my fellow humans, I swear."

"No worries," Garth told him, and then, surveying his outfit again, said, "I take it you don't get out much these days?"

Milo groaned. "No… no. I mean, my once-a-week staff meeting in person, but yeah. Until last week I was ordering my groceries in, and DoorDash was my friend, and…." He shook his head. "This is week one of plan ‘get Milo out of the house and make him take care of something so he will take care of himself' month. I owe my bestie a full report on Friday, so when I was getting lost in work and Julia was worrying my pantleg, I sort of gave a squawk and grabbed my wallet, keys, phone and the leash and ran out of the house." He shook his leash handle, which had an attachment to hold his poop bags as well as some hand sanitizer and even a little bowl for water. "It's a good thing my bestie set me up for emergency exits, or I would have committed one more dog sin about five minutes before Julia rounded that hill."

"That's a bestie," Garth said. He pulled out some of the mailing wraps he'd saved, which had thicker plastic and holes big enough to fit his own massive, battered paws. "I'm afraid needs a bigger receptable."

"Yikes!" Milo squeaked. "Your dog pretty much craps bigger than my entire dog."

"Yeah," Garth agreed, "but he's big in spirit too, so that's okay."

While Milo was struggling with Julia and the leash—and Julia's desire to go places other than right next to Milo's left foot—Chad stayed on his eight-foot leash with a stately, measured pace that gave Garth lots of room to maneuver.

And lots of room to short leash his dog if Chad got crazy for some reason and decided to chase squirrels, which he'd never ever done before. But given the dog weighed almost as much as Milo, Garth was prepared for any eventuality.

"So," Garth continued, when it looked like Milo might not trip and die in the next few feet, "you weren't getting out of the house?" It was the most delicate way he could phrase it. Obviously this kid wasn't getting out of the house. He was pretty much a menace to himself.

"Bad breakup," Milo said miserably. Garth caught his little side-eye, like he was expecting some sort of blowback from that.

But Garth felt that one in his gut. "Ugh. I had one of those once," he confessed. "Right out of college. My dad took me for a drive, and I ended up working on one of his landscaping jobs." He shook his head. "Spent four years in school trying to be an engineer. Lost weight, drank way too much, got my BS, got dumped, and the happiest I ever was, I was shifting rock next to my father in one-hundred-degree heat." He shrugged. "Took over the business, and when my folks retired, I took over their house."

"Still happy?" Milo asked, and his voice sounded tremulous, like he was reaching for hope.

"So far," Garth told him, that morning's grayness forgotten.

"Win," Milo said, and now he sounded happy. "Oops!" Julia had stopped again but with a little hop and some flailing, Milo jumped over the leash and landed on his feet.

When he was stable, he let out a laugh and threw Garth a smile over his shoulder that melted Garth's soul into a golden puddle that surrounded his heart and seeped through his skin while a perfect chord vibrated through the heavens.

Garth swallowed.

Oh.

GARTH HAD his equilibrium back—mostly—by the time they'd finished the loop, and Garth watched as Milo opened the door of his small royal-blue Toyota and told Julia to hop in the car, which she did.

"Thank you for walking with me," Milo said, but his eyes still held some of the anxiety that had flooded them right after Julia had gone bowling for turkeys and had bowled into Chad instead. "I'm still so sorry about my dog—"

"Not at all," Garth said, mind scrambling for ways to make sure they met up again. "I'm here a lot in the morning. There's practically nobody here around this time."

Milo nodded. "Maybe I'll see you—"

Oh no. Not maybe. "Here," Garth said. "Give me your phone."

Milo pulled it out of his pocket—he had a Bloodborne phone cover, which made Garth smile because of course he was a gamer—and handed it over, blinking as if completely surprised to be doing such a thing.

"Okay," Garth said, typing in his number and then calling himself, "I will text you tomorrow right before I leave and meet you back here. Right here. Maybe we can see if Julia and Chad chill with more familiarity."

"You mean if Julia chills," Milo said, and Garth held the phone up for a selfie and grinned while he clicked it.

"How long have you had her?" he asked, to clarify as he gave the phone back.

"Two weeks," Milo said.

"And when did your boyfriend leave?" Garth asked, taking a risk.

"Beginning of August?" Milo answered, staring at him in surprise. "How did you know that?"

Garth winked, although his heart broke a little, because he knew that wasn't quite long enough. That's okay. Garth could wait for it to be long enough. He was patient like that.

"Because hurt and heartbreak take time to overcome," he said gently. "She lost her family and then found herself at your place. Let her get comfortable."

"But… but… but… the boyfriend?" Milo asked, his ears turning red.

Garth couldn't help it. He reached out and brushed the top of one of the ears protruding a bit from the straight, raggedly-cut dark brown hair.

"I know the signs," he said, remembering his own woebegone face in the mirror the summer after he graduated. "Take care of your dog, Milo. Take care of yourself." He gave a gentle smile. "I'll text you tomorrow."

And with that he whistled for Chad. Now that Julia was safely stowed in the little-mobile Milo drove, Chad was safe to amble on the soccer field, whuffling the dewy grass until they came to the truck with the Chuckit and the ball on the hood.

Chad didn't whimper, but his eyes went to the Chuckit as though he hadn't spent an entire half hour out there chasing the damned thing before Julia arrived.

Garth took in that look and checked his phone. Skip coffee or…. Quickly he texted his new client, asking if he could bring some coffee to make up for being five minutes late. He got a heart-eye emoji in return and figured since his phone showed Mrs. Parcival, he would not be obligated to do anything untoward to repay the client's graciousness.

"Okay," he said to Chad. "One more time."