They both got bundled up to head out to the porch with Baxter’s dinner, and Chappy held his breath as they went outside, praying the dog was still there.
He was.
As soon as the door opened, Baxter’s head popped up from the nest of blankets he’d made. There were paw prints that led down the porch into the yard, so it was obvious the dog had done his business, then returned to the warmth of his little den.
“Hey, Bax,” Carlise said softly. “How’re you doin’？ You look comfortable. Although it would be so much warmer and nicer inside with Riggs and me. We won’t hurt you, I promise. The storm seems to have stopped, which is good news. Without the wind, you should be much warmer. I brought you some more food and water. And tonight you’re in for a treat . . . Riggs made cheesy taco noodles! They’re sooooo good. You’re going to think you’ve died and gone to heaven. I mixed in some green beans and chickpeas, because you need the nutrients, but I’m thinking you won’t even notice them with the cheesy beefy goodness you’re about to scarf down.”
Chappy had a huge smile on his face. She was adorable, talking to the dog as if he could understand what she said. But then again, maybe he did. Baxter was watching her with his head tilted as if he was fixated on every word.
Carlise put the bowls on the wooden boards of the porch and scooted them forward, toward the dog. When she started to move backward, Chappy said, “No, stay close to him again. And keep talking. He needs regular reminders that you aren’t going to hurt him. That you aren’t going to give him food, then take it away.”
“I’d never do that,” she said, sounding scandalized, but she did as he suggested and slowly sat on her butt, closer than she’d ever sat near him before.
“Good boy. I know I’m close, but I won’t hurt you. That food’s all yours. I ate my fill—more than my fill, if you must know,” she told the dog in a quiet tone. “And there’s lots of leftovers. I’ll see if I can control myself so you can have some tomorrow, but no guarantees. I might wake up in the middle of the night and sneak out here to the icebox thing and eat the rest myself.”
She continued to talk nonsense to the dog, and eventually the lure of food won out, and Baxter crept forward just enough to reach the bowl. Like he had before, he didn’t gulp the food down as fast as he could. He seemed to be savoring each bite, as if he was afraid he’d never get any again and needed to enjoy the experience while he could.
Chappy could relate. When he and his friends had been POWs, they hadn’t exactly been fed regularly. And when they were, it was disgusting, watered-down oatmeal or something that had no flavor whatsoever.
The first meal he’d had at the hospital in Germany had tasted better than anything he could ever remember eating in his life. It had taken him twenty minutes to finish a simple bowl of chicken soup. Not because his stomach had shrunk, but because he was savoring every bite.
“He’s eating,” Carlise said in the same tone she’d been using to talk to the dog.
“Reach down and put your hand near the dish. Don’t try to touch him, just rest your hand there,” Chappy suggested.
“I don’t want to scare him,” she argued.
“That’s why you aren’t going to try to touch him,” he returned calmly.
Without any more protests, Carlise moved slowly, once more talking to Baxter in that calm tone as she placed her hand near the bowl.
Baxter stopped eating for a moment, looked at her, then at her hand, then turned his attention back to the bowl.
“He’s ignoring me!” Carlise said happily.
Chappy would’ve chuckled if he didn’t think it would scare the dog.
They both watched as Baxter licked the bowl clean of every single morsel of food. Then, to their surprise and delight, he licked Carlise’s fingers, just once, before backing up into the little den he’d made on the porch.
Carlise turned and smiled at Chappy—and it was all he could do not to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless.
“He licked me!” she exclaimed happily. “Did you see that, Riggs? He licked me!”
“I saw it, sweetheart.” The term of endearment popped out without thought. Now that the dog had finished eating and was curled back into the blankets, Chappy crouched on the balls of his feet next to Carlise. He balanced himself by putting a hand on her shoulder and the other on the wall next to her.
“Hey, boy. You did good,” he praised the dog. “Thank you for coming to get me and leading me to Carlise.” His friends would laugh their heads off at the sight of him talking to a dog, but he hadn’t had a chance to show his appreciation to the mutt yet and figured this was a good time to talk and not scare him, when his belly was full, and he was hopefully feeling mellow.