Protective Instinct

by Tricia Lynne

  “Mmm. Truth is, every breed has bad owners, but as bully breed owners, we have to be diligent and put more time into training and socialization because of breed bias.” She blew out a long sigh. “Because, honestly, Brody, you should know, if CC were to bite, whether it’s a dog or person—even if she were defending herself against an attack—it will always be her fault. Whether she is or not, people will say she was the aggressor.”

  “That’s bullshit.” I felt the lines in my forehead deepen. “I mean, I get it why we need to be cognizant, but it’s—”

  “Unfair?” Lily pulled to a stop. I could see both the frustration and resolve on her face.

  “Yeah.”

  She nodded, continued walking. “It is.”

  Stopping at a fenced area, she swiped a card. An electronic gate buzzed open and Lily led Jet and Mack inside, unclipping their leashes. I followed, hesitant to do the same with CC. Particularly after the conversation we’d had.

  “It’s okay. Let her off leash. Leaving her on will make her feel vulnerable because she can’t run if something happens.” Bending at the waist, she unhooked CC’s leash and gave her a scratch on the head before she told Jet and Mack to go play.

  “I know about dog parks. I just worry she’ll hurt another dog, and that will be the end of CC.”

  Lily began to saunter through the grass. “First, this isn’t really a dog park. It’s a training area. The Unruly Dog owns it. Second, we’re the only ones here. I signed the area out just for CC. Next time we’ll introduce her to more dogs, but today it’s just us.”

  “Ahhh. Controlled environment.”

  “Exactly. Now, we’re going to let CC be a dog and explore her surroundings.” Lily meandered through the short grass as Jet led Mack and CC around the perimeter of the park at a trot.

  CC sniffed at everything. Sticks. Holes in the ground. Bushes. A bird carcass. Eventually, she even broke away from Jet and explored on her own with Mack following her like a mooning teenager.

  I knew the feeling. “How did you get into dog training?”

  “I used to work with my own dog all the time. As I was finishing up my master’s degree in kinesiology, I went through an ugly breakup with a cheating asshole who got borderline obsessed. I needed to hit the reset button on life. Do what made me happy. I love the mechanics of the human body, but dealing with people all day... I have a low threshold for bullshit and my bedside manner is similar to my level of road rage during rush hour. Teaching my dog became my sanctuary. My escape from the people I had to deal with daily. That time with my dogs was wholly satisfying and made me happy in a way working with human subjects never had. So, I got certified.

  “Besides, I never wanted to work for the Bulldogs anyway, and I knew that’s where things were headed.”

  “Why not? With who your dad is, it seems like a natural progression.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t get along with Dick, and football is...complicated for me.”

  I could understand that. Lots of people in the league speculated on Billy Costello’s death, and some guys played too long because football was all they knew. Billy’s accident came only a couple of years after he retired, and long before the league recognized concepts like Concussion Protocols and CTE.

  I nodded, watched CC sniffing a tree. “I get that. If I could just play, I might feel differently about football now, if I didn’t have to deal with all the extra shit. The media and the politics. It’s lost a lot of the appeal for me.” I shook my head. “The celebrity thing makes me a target. Like with the pet sitter. And I have no desire to be famous. My goal is to retire when my contract is up. To go out on top in my hometown before my body gives out and get away from that aspect of it.”

  Lil nibbled on her lip. “That’s a smart plan. So, tell me what else you learned in your googling? Did you do any research on mills?”

  “Besides pictures that made me so mad I had to go for a run before I put a hole in the drywall?” Remembering had my stomach turning.

  “Yeah, they can get pretty graphic. It’s an uncomfortable rabbit hole to go down, but an important one, too, to understand what a mill is and the difference between mills and reputable preservation breeders.”

  “I can’t believe these things are legal in Texas.”

  “They’re legal in most every state. In Texas, as long as they stay in compliance with the Texas Department of Licensing and Regulation, it’s perfectly on the up-and-up. Texas passed a bill in 2012 to regulate and exact penalties if they fall out of compliance. The problem is, they’re supposed to inspect the facilities and dogs every eighteen months. One, that’s too long between inspections—more than enough time for a breeding operation to spiral. Two, there are too few state inspectors to actually do the job. The mills often go longer than the eighteen months without actually being inspected. Plus, there are plenty of inspectors who will look the other way in exchange for a big fat wad of cash.”

  I could see the frustration on Lily’s face. As my own frustration started to build, CC wandered over to me, pushing her massive head into my leg. I scratched her ears to calm us both. “If mills have to register, shouldn’t it be easy to find this one?”

  “You’d think. There’s a public list of breeders who register and don’t meet the appropriate standard of care. There are also countless mills that choose to operate illegally. They never register with the state to save themselves the hassle. Why do that if they can do everything below board? I’m certain we’re dealing with one of those.”

  I glanced down at my girl. “Why don’t people just adopt?”

  “That’s the right answer for many folks, but there are also reasons people started breeding dogs for specific traits, too. Huskies are bred to pull, Labs to retrieve, Corsi for guarding the castle, Aussies for herding sheep. You can’t always guarantee what traits or possible physical issues you’ll get with a mixed breed. Even purebred rescue dogs like Mack and CC can come with a ton of baggage. Not every owner is capable of retraining, or perhaps they have reasons for wanting the dog to come without baggage. For me, I’ll always have a rescue dog in my house. I work with a few rescues to rehabilitate dogs to increase their chances of being adopted, too. But I also understand the inclination to purchase a specific breed from a reputable breeder.”

  Lily raised her eyes and that violet hue hit me in the chest. “When I got Jet, I’d just lost my dog Joker. I’d finished my training certification and I needed a highly intelligent dog confident enough that she could do anything I asked of her. She needed to be an example to my students of what they can accomplish with their own dogs. I also love dog sports and wanted a dog I knew would be physically sound and fast as hell so we could compete.”

  “But how do you tell if a breeder is legit?”

  “First things first, study the breed you think you want and make sure it’s the right breed for your lifestyle. You’re active, Brody, so you’re fine with a Cane Corso, but you can’t exactly take a Basset Hound running with you, can you?”

  “Actually, I kind of run like a Basset Hound.”

  Lil’s laugh was a quick burst. “I know for a fact you don’t run like a basset.”

  I waved her off. “I get what you’re saying. One of the reasons dogs end up in shelters is because people don’t research. There are people who want dogs like Mack and CC, so people think they are badasses, but when they don’t understand the breed’s traits, the dogs end up with the bad rep, and overcrowd shelters.”

  Her face brightened. “Exactly. Same goes for health issues, exercise needs, grooming, how much time you can dedicate to the dog. I tell people to check out the breed’s national dog club to find reputable breeders. Talk to potential breeders; ask to see the litter’s parents. Ask for references. Do your due diligence. Dogs should never be an impulse purchase, either. Jet’s breeder had me provide references. She called my regular vet and two of my instructors to make sure
my dogs were healthy, happy, and that I trained with positive reinforcement.”

  Lily’s voice was vehement. “Most people aren’t worried about where a dog came from when they see the adorable French bulldog puppy at the pet shop.” Mouth forming a small frown, she flashed a shadow of pain on her face.

  “The puppy mill thing... I imagine in your line of work you see a lot of pups that come from mills. Is that how you got involved with rescue?”

  She nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Puppies gotten from mills cause so much heartache for people who don’t know any better.

  “Pups people buy in pet stores or from internet ads, odds are high they’re coming from dogs that shouldn’t be bred for health reasons at best. At worst, they’re mass produced, born in filth, inbred, and predisposed to a host of serious health problems. Both genetically and because of exposure. They’re never healthy, and they die young.” She fiddled with her napkin as regret passed over her features.

  “What happened, Lil?”

  Exhaling, she leaned back in her seat. “Before I decided to go into dog training, my ex gave me a French bulldog puppy for my birthday one year. It was an adorable little baby with a round tummy and ears too big for its head. His name was Joker. The ex bought him from a pet store. When I took him to the vet the first time, I learned he came from a mill.” Her face softened. “Joker was—it was heartbreaking. He had a ton of health problems. The older he got, the worse it was. Serious joint issues, constant respiratory problems. Really bad allergies. Then we discovered the hole in his heart.”

  Glassy eyes caught the sunlight. “He was six when I lost him. A dog that size should be capable of living into its teens. Plus, the vet bills and procedures trying to help him be a healthy dog. So many dogs end up in shelters because owners aren’t informed. There are lots of legitimate reasons for surrendering a dog to a shelter or rescue, but owner inconvenience and a lack of due diligence shouldn’t be among them. It’s not the reputable breeders’ fault shelters are overcrowded. It’s the mills and unprepared owners.” Glancing down, she wiped at her cheeks. “I know the heartbreak unsuspecting owners go through when they pay a small fortune for a mill puppy and unwittingly line some puppy farmer’s pockets.”

  It hit home for me. This was personal for Lily. She wasn’t judging. She was trying to educate people to stop others from experiencing the pain she’d been through with her own dog and the fallout that became the unwanted dogs in shelters. My heart hurt for her. I could tell this dog meant the world to her, and she’d lost him too young.

  “I’m sorry you went through all that, Lil. I haven’t had CC long at all, but I already know my life is richer, fuller with her in it. I’d be crushed if I lost her now. The love she gives me, it’s pure. Uncomplicated. Unfailing.”

  Of its own volition, my hand drifted to her arm and slid until her tiny palm was in mine. “Unconditional.”

  “Yes. Inherently good. People don’t...”

  I stepped in closer and her eyes drifted up my chest, landing on my face. “Most people either don’t or can’t offer that kind of love.”

  Taking a step back, Lil pulled her hand away, crossing her arms over her chest, and the moment was gone. “Look.” She tipped her head in the direction of the dogs.

  Jet and CC were running together, playfully nudging each other with their shoulders while Mack tried to insert himself in the middle.

  “Poor dude. They’re totally ignoring him.”

  Lily grinned. “Oh, don’t you worry about Mack. They’ll come around.”

  Chapter Seven

  Who the hell talks in hashtags?

  Lily

  Brody had been watching CC since we left the park. “She doesn’t seem overstimulated now, and her ears are standing up. She’s always so watchful. Every little thing seems to put her on alert.” CC walked on leash beside Brody, buddied up to Jet like she’d been doing it her entire life. “But now, she seems relaxed. I can’t believe it’s that simple.”

  I snorted. “It’s not. Some things come more easily than others. Depends on the dog. Right now, she’s physically and mentally too exhausted to give a damn, but some of her caution will return. I think her curiosity will always win out. She’ll always be watchful—that’s ingrained in her DNA. You need to get her out for exercise every day and start exposing her to new surroundings. A tired dog is a good dog.” A thought occurred to me. “Have you had her spayed?”

  He nodded. “The emergency vet took care of it when they put her under to stitch the gash closed. They gave her shots, ran heartworm tests and all that. Told me I was lucky she was heartworm negative. She was dehydrated and underweight, but I don’t think she’d been wandering for too long. I need to find a regular vet. I have to follow up with the rest of her immunizations.”

  “I’ll give you the name of my vet.”

  As the coffee shop in Brody’s building came into view, he seemed antsy. “Got time for coffee? Unless, I mean, you have a class or client or something.”

  “Sure, I’ve got some time. And that surrounding will be good for CC. It’s best to expose her to new situations after she’s well exercised. Plus, I wanna talk to you about some of my observations.” It took everything I had not to grin. He sounded like a nervous teenager and I was fairly sure the tips of his ears turned red. Truthfully, I’d been enjoying his company. Probably a little too much. The scene back in the park was...not something I did with my clients. Or anybody, for that matter. I had friends in the dog world who knew Joker’s story, but it wasn’t like me to be quite so transparent. The way Brody and I had connected back there... I’d never been so thankful for Jet’s timing.

  Pulling a folded ball cap out of his back pocket, he slapped it on his head. Slipped on the sunglasses he’d hung on the neck of his shirt. After grabbing a table in the shade, I took CC’s leash and Brody went inside to order. By the time he reemerged with our coffee, the dogs were drowsing on the sidewalk.

  “I worried about you handling all three dogs. Obviously, I didn’t need to.”

  Flicking my gaze up, I took my coffee, and Brody’s lips parted. “Jesus, Lily. Those eyes...”

  “It’s not polite to stare, Shaw.”

  Brody cleared his throat, stared at my mouth. “Uh, sorry.”

  A slow smirk crept across my lips. “I’m messing with you. I’ve gotten that my entire life. They’re unusual. People stare.” I shrugged, sipped my flat white.

  “They’re just...arresting. I can’t believe I hadn’t noticed them before.”

  “We’ve always chatted at night. Not a lot of changes in light.” I felt my cheeks shift to pink. Time to change the subject. “Something occurred to me with CC and Mack’s mill.”

  He leaned both elbows on the table. “What’s that?”

  “I think there’s a distinct possibility that this mill owner has answered free-to-a-good-home classified ads to find some of their breeding stock.”

  One eye squinted as he sunk his teeth into his lip. It was all kinds of yummy. “Why is that?”

  “The rescue I got Mack from found a handful of dogs that didn’t get as lucky as Mack. They’d been dumped in the woods back off a road.”

  Nostrils flaring, Brody’s lips thinned as his molars got a workout.

  “They took pictures for the authorities, and one of them had its ears and tail cropped.”

  “Yeah, but a lot of these bully breeds have that, right?”

  “Yes, but it’s an extra expense. It’s an aesthetic for a breeding dog. A puppy farmer wouldn’t care about it because they’re never going to let you see their breeding dogs. They could have weaseled them out of legitimate breeders, but that’s expensive. Plus, if they went through the hassle of getting dogs from legit breeders, they wouldn’t cart them out to the middle of nowhere and dump them because they weren’t producing. They’d sell them off at auction or clean them up and advertise th
em. As scrutinizing as show breeders are about who they give their pups to, mill owners are just as tenacious and deceptive.”

  I bit the inside edge of my lip. “I think Mack may have come from an unwitting breeder. He hadn’t had any training when he came to me, but confirmation-wise, he’s a good example of his breed. CC... I’m ninety percent sure someone has worked with her on basic commands.”

  “You think she was someone’s pet?”

  “At one time. Did the emergency vet scan her for a microchip?”

  Brody nodded. “Yeah, she didn’t have one. They gave her one, but I need to send in her registration.”

  “Don’t forget to do that. Otherwise the chip isn’t much good.”

  Two lines appeared between Brody’s brows.

  I rested an elbow on the table, covered his hand with my own. “I don’t think anyone is out there looking for her. If she didn’t have a chip, chances are they weren’t real concerned with losing her anyway. But all the little clues did get me thinking.

  “Nearly all pups in pet shops come from mills, but mills are also known to sell pups online. I think this puppy farmer may have ran across CC’s owner trying to give her away and picked her up to breed her. If this mill owner cruises classifieds to find cheap or free breeding stock, we may have another avenue to finding them. It’s essentially the same way fighting rings find bait dogs. It’s also why I tell people not to use classifieds or social media to get rid of a pet.”

  Brody rubbed his plump bottom lip with his index finger as he mulled over the logistics.

  “We can search classifieds for phone numbers—message them if we need to, like we’re interested in a dog—and narrow down the area. I can work on that since I probably shouldn’t go to pet shops with you anyway.”