RacerBear
Slut
Some of you may remember me from my previous postings (Finding Darin and Finding Darin 2.0). Well, the boys are finally back in the second installment of their saga. This one centers on the everyday happenings surrounding their daily life at the rescue center they operate. While the sexual encounters may not be as plentiful as the previous story, there are still some. Hopefully, enough to keep you entertained and turned on.
Anyway, sit back and enjoy as Brady, Darin and the rest of the crew carry on. Don't hesitate to let me know your thoughts and I hope you enjoy this as much as I've enjoyed bringing it to you.
Thank you for reading and I wish you all the best.
RacerBear
Chapter One
Spending most of their days overseeing the operation of Black Sheep Farm had brought Brady Tortellino and his partner, Darin Johnson, even closer together. While most psychologists would warn that it’s never good for couples to work and live together, it seemed to be a good arrangement for the pair. Even though most of their day was spent in the same building, they both took on different roles in the day-to-day operations of the facility. Often, the only time they actually spent together during the day was when they walked back to the house for lunch. In the two years since the couple had purchased the run-down chicken farm, they had made almost constant improvements to the property. Not only had they completely renovated the existing buildings, but they had added numerous smaller out buildings as well. The original twin structures, each measuring about fifty feet wide and two-hundred feet long, had been converted to house as many as a hundred dogs and almost that many cats. Through their efforts, over a thousand stray and unwanted animals had found new homes with many more having been turned over to breed specific and specialty rescues.
Brady had established a circle of contacts that included reptile and bird rescue groups as well and animals had been shipped to a number of zoos throughout the country and as far away as Ontario, Canada. The animal Welfare league of North America, one of the first to offer financial assistance through a grant program, was so impressed with their efforts that they had pledged fifty thousand dollars per year for the first five years of operation. Community support had come in both monetary and physical ways. One local high school offered credits in both business and sociology for time spent volunteering. The gay community had also embraced the farm and a huge number of volunteers spent countless hours cleaning, feeding, and helping maintain the grounds and buildings.
Not only were countless numbers of dogs and cats rescued but many other farm animals had been found new homes as well. Through a program set up by the local sheriff’s department, several deer, and other wild animals, who were injured by cars and careless hunters, were also turned over to rehabilitators and returned to the wild or located to zoos or other facilities.
Both were quick to point out, however, that the success of the operation was not due to their involvement alone. It took a lot of effort from not only the paid staff but also a large number of volunteers. Brady’s childhood friend, Tim Gardner had been an integral part of helping get the operation started and had worked with his friend at another facility until financial issues had forced its closing. Tim had taken over as head of rescue operations and coordinated the efforts of the many rescue drivers. Jake Daniels had come onboard to oversee fund raising at the farm after having been Darin’s assistant with his previous employer. Becky and Cathy Jacobs had come from the previous facility and had taken charge of adoptions and intake. Staff veterinarian, Dylan Edwards and his wife, Tina made certain that every animal coming into the shelter had whatever necessary medical treatment and kept all up to date on vaccines. While there were only a handful of paid staff when the operation began, that number had grown considerably. Numerous volunteers spent many hours feeding the animals, cleaning cages and kennels, taking dogs out to play and transporting the animals to veterinary appointments, not to mention the many rescues handled on a daily basis.
Construction at the facility had been almost nonstop; the most recent project having been the conversion of the twelve-foot-wide space between the two buildings into office space with a second-floor employee lounge and locker rooms. Offices for the vet staff and additional exam rooms, along with additional storage had been added. Garage space had also been constructed on the north end of both buildings to enable rescue drivers to drive inside to unload, thus keeping the chance for runaways to a minimum.
With continued growth of the operation a certainty, the couple had purchased two rather large parcels of wooded property on either side of the farm. A small amount of the wooded area to the west had been cleared for construction of a sixty by one-hundred-foot building that housed a thrift store which was managed by Darin’s mother, Sylvia. The property on the east side was used to position a number of trailer homes for various staff members, replacing some of the smaller homes that sat in the northeast corner of the original property.
Following one of their monthly ‘no questions asked pet surrender’ events, plans were in the works for an adoption promotion in hopes of clearing up space for more animals.
******
It was just past ten o’clock on a Monday morning when a tall, white-haired gentleman entered the reception area of the office. Kathy sat behind the counter collating bundles of adoption papers. Looking up from her work, she asked, “Can I help you?”
He smiled, revealing perfectly white teeth. “I certainly hope so,” he said extending his hand. “I’m George Whitesal,” he added, “And I’d like to offer my services to your fine organization.”
Kathy stood and accepted his hand, shaking it as she replied, “You mean you’d like to volunteer?”
“Yes, that’s correct,” George answered.
“Do you have much experience with animals?” Kathy quizzed.
George smiled once more and shook his head. “We had a dog years ago but when she passed it was just too painful. Like losing a child.”
Kathy nodded in agreement. “I certainly know how that is. It would just about kill me if I lost either of my dogs.” She moved around the counter and stepped toward Brady’s office. Tapping on the open door, she announced, “Brady, I have a young gentleman here who would like to volunteer.”
Brady, who was making notes on one of the many sheets of paper scattered across his desk, rose from his chair. “Send him in,” he replied, pulling the papers together into a pile. When George entered the room, he extended his hand and said, “I’m Brady Tortellino.”
Once again, George smiled as he shook Brady’s hand. “I’m pleased to meet you, young man, George Whitesal, at your service.”
Motioning for George to take a seat, Brady said, “Pleased to meet you, George,” as he returned to his own seat. “What is it that led you to volunteer here?”
“While I was waiting at the hospital the other day, one of the nurses, I believe her name was Sara, said that she and her husband volunteer here. I thought it a splendid way to spend the time,” George answered.
“May I ask which hospital?” Brady inquired.
“It was Saint Michael’s,” was the reply. “William, my partner, has to go for dialysis every other day and it takes several hours. Plus, when he gets back home, he’s so tired that he just wants to sleep. We have a young man who looks after him and takes him for his appointments. He’s been badgering me to find something to occupy my time rather than sit and wait at the hospital.”
“I’m sorry to hear that he’s ill,” Brady offered, “How long have you two been together?”
George scratched his chin and smiled, once again. “Forty-nine years,” he said proudly.
“That’s amazing,” Brady said, a broad smile crossing his handsome face. “Darin and I have only been together about a year but, hopefully, we can make it that long. Congratulations.”
“Thank you. They gave William six months to live…nearly two years ago. He’s a fighter, that one. He says he wants to dance at our fiftieth anniversary celebration and,” he paused to wipe a tear from his left eye with his thumb, “I believe he will.”
Brady retrieved a box of tissues from atop the credenza behind his desk and handed it to George. “That’s just amazing,” he repeated. “I bet you ‘ve seen a lot of change over the years,” he offered.
George pulled a tissue from the box and dabbed at the corners of his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he began, “It was rather dangerous for us in the early days,” he began. “You had to be extremely careful. We moved to San Francisco because we heard that there was a fairly large community there. We came from a small town in Ohio so, neither of us even knew how to be gay.” His smile returned as he shared the memory with Brady. “It was nineteen fifty-two and I had just come home from my junior year of college. I went to work at my uncle’s shoe store, and I was counting the days until I could go back to school. One day, the most handsome young man came into the store, with his mother, looking for a new pair of dress shoes. I could not take my eyes off him. I helped him try on several pairs of shoes before he decided on a pair of black wing tips. He was just so handsome, freshly graduated from high school.”
Brady leaned his elbows on his desk as he listened intently. “So, was it love at first sight? “ he asked.
“Oh, hardly, “ George replied with a soft laugh. “Okay, well, perhaps for me. “
“How did the two of you actually get together?” Brady inquired.
George took a deep breath. “Over the next couple of weeks, William used any excuse he could find to come into the store. He bought shoe polish, laces, anything he could think of. Finally, one afternoon when I was preparing to close the store for the day, he stopped in and just asked me if I would like to go to dinner with him.”
“Did you go?” Brady asked, hopefully.
Shaking his head, George replied, “Not then, no. His family lived near my family, so I agreed to walk home with him. We chatted about nothing in particular. He told me he lived with his parents and two younger sisters. At no time did either of us broach the subject of whether or not either of us was gay. I just was not discussed.”
Engrossed in George’s story, Brady did not notice Darin standing in the doorway. “Sorry to interrupt,” Darin offered, entering the office. “Hello, I’m Darin Johnson,” he said, extending his hand to George.
“George was telling me about how he and his partner, William, met,” Brady told Darin. He turned to George and urged, “Go on.”
“Yes, please go on,” Darin agreed, taking the seat next to George.
George took a deep breath before continuing his story. “Let’s see, where was I?”
“You had just walked home from work with William,” Brady offered.’
“Ah, yes, well,” he paused, “We began walking home each afternoon and we really became good friends.” He smiled again as he recalled, “One afternoon, he asked me if I knew what it was like to have a secret that you felt you could never share with anyone.” He paused, once again. “I told him I thought I knew what he meant but he didn’t share anything more with me that day.” He turned to Brady and continued, “For years, I thought I was the only one who felt this way. I had no idea there were others out there who were dealing with the same demons that I was.”
Brady sighed. “I think we’ve all felt that way at one time or another.”
Nodding his agreement, George continued, “But it’s much easier to find someone today. Back then you had to be so incredibly careful in whom you confided. If you told the wrong person, you could find yourself locked away in a mental institution.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “One young man I knew from college found himself in a similar situation. His father was a Pentecostal minister. When he felt he could carry his secret no longer, he confided in his older sister. Late one night, his father and several other ministers dragged him from his bed and forced him to undergo an emergency exorcism. He told me, years later, he had never been so frightened in his life. His father kept slapping him and shouting, ‘Release him, Satan!’ He told me he had never seen such hatred in his father’s eyes.”
“My parents threw me out when they found out,” Brady offered sadly. “I grew up in Illinois and was engaged to be married. I finally told my fiancé the truth and she was relieved that I was finally honest with her. She’s since married someone else. I still hear from her occasionally.”
“I know many men who went through with marriage, and, for a time, they were truly happy,” George replied. “Eventually, though, the truth was revealed, and they found themselves lost and very much alone.”
Kathy stepped into the open door and motioned to Brady. “Tom’s on line two,” she announced, “He says it’s urgent.”
Brady excused himself as he picked up the phone. “Hi, Tom, what’s up?” His expression turned serious as he turned and punched some keys on his computer keyboard. “What’s the address?” He grabbed the mouse, made a few clicks, and brought up another screen. “No, I’ve got it on Map quest…I’ll print it out…The dog’s guarding the body? No, I don’t want to dart him unless we absolutely have to…Okay, I’ll send Dylan just in case…How many other animals?” Brady made notes on a pad in front of him. “Okay, we’ll send two trucks,” he added, “See you soon.” Turning to George, he said, “There’s a volunteer group meeting tomorrow afternoon at three o’clock. If you can make it, I’d be happy to have you join us.”
Standing, George extended his hand once again. “That sounds splendid. May I inquire as to the nature of your call?”
Brady nodded. “A county police officer was sent to do a ‘wellness check’ on an elderly resident and found his large Doberman guarding the body.”
“Oh, dear,” George offered.
“The paramedics can’t get in to check him out until the dog is secure,” Brady explained. “I need to send a crew and see if we can get him under control. Then, paramedics can remove the man’s body and the family can go in and start cleanup.”
George shook his head. “It’s sad, isn’t it?”
“What’s that?” Brady asked, confused.
“That we, as humans, can’t show the same unconditional love for one another that our pets show,” George replied. Extending his hand, he smiled and offered, “I’ll see you tomorrow at three.”
****
Tim parked his rescue van in front of the neat ranch style home. A tall police officer approached as a second van parked across the street. Sliding from the van, Tim said, “Hey, Tom, what’s up?”
“The dog’s pretty agitated,” Tom replied, “He won’t let anyone get close to the man. Looks like natural causes.”
Tim grabbed his control stick from behind the driver’s seat and closed the door just as Eric Baker approached from across the street carrying a similar device. Standing barely five feet tall, Eric was dwarfed by the other men. What he lacked in physical size, however, he made up for in ability. In his short career at the shelter, he had already proven himself very capable in a number of rescues. “Where’s the dog?” Eric asked, pulling a ball cap over his curly hair. From a distance, he looked like he was around twelve. Up close, however, it was obvious that he was an adult. Eric waited while Tom Jefferson, an officer with the county police department, explained the situation.
“The homeowner is a Mister Joseph Brown,” Tom explained. “Apparently, he passed away while watching television sometime last evening. A neighbor who helps take care of his animals couldn’t get any response when he knocked this morning, so he called us to do a wellness check.” He paused as a dark blue, late model Ford Taurus approached and stopped behind his police cruiser. A small, round woman with short blond hair pulled herself from behind the wheel and, smoothing the front of her skirt, approached the three men.
“I’m Rita Spencer,” the woman told Tom, “I got a call from the neighbor telling me there was a problem with my father.”
Tom approached the woman slowly. “I’m sorry to inform you that,” he paused, “It appears that your father has passed away.”
She blinked and thought for a moment. “What do you mean, it appears?” she asked.
Tom shook his head, choosing his words carefully. Finally, he added, “His dog won’t let us get close enough to be certain.”
A nervous smile appeared on Rita’s face. “That dog always has been very protective of him," she said.
“Do you think you could coax the dog away from him?” Tim inquired, hopefully.
“Oh, heavens no,” Rita replied. “That dog never wanted anything to do with anyone but him.”
Tim tightened his grip on the control stick and, after removing a small bag of dog treats from the van, he started toward the house. “Better get this over with,” he stated. As he entered the house, he could see Mister Brown seated in his recliner, his sock covered feet resting on the footrest and the large, chocolate brown Doberman seated next to him. As he approached, the dog rose to its feet, growling. Slowly, he stepped closer as the dog barked a sharp warning and bared its teeth.
“Careful, Tim,” Tom called from outside the front door. “He acts pretty mean.”
“Actually, he’s a she,” Rita whispered to Eric, “Her name is Sasha.”
Tim held out a dog biscuit, offering it to Sasha. “Easy, fella,” he said, softly, “Nobody’s here to hurt you.” The dog pinned its ears back and growled menacingly. Without taking his eyes off the dog, Tim called, over his shoulder, to Tom, “You might want to get the tranquilizer dart ready, just in case.”
From his vantage-point behind Tom, Eric studied the scene inside the house. Even though Mister Brown was seated in his recliner, Eric could tell that he was not an exceptionally large man. “How tall is your father?” he whispered to Rita.
She thought for a moment. “I don’t know, around five three maybe,” she replied. “Why?”
“I have an idea,” he said before sprinting to the van parked across the street. Within seconds, he returned with a package of oatmeal cookies. Removing several from the pack, he tucked them into the pocket of his red shirt and handed the package to Rita. “Tim?” he called softly.
The dog snarled, sucking in air as she lunged toward Tim. Stepping back quickly, Tim bumped into the coffee table and tumbled onto the dark green sofa. The dog’s nails clicked on the hardwood floor as she bounded toward him. Tossing a handful of biscuits onto the floor in front of Sasha, Tim scrambled toward the door. Only when he was safely on the porch, with the front door closed behind him, did he look back to find the dog chomping on the treats and growling. “Dammit, he’s one aggressive sum-bitch!” Tim exclaimed.
“Let me try,” Eric offered. “I think I know what you guys are doing wrong.”
“Are you freakin’ kiddin’ me?”
“Not at all. I really think I know why she is so upset at you and Tom.”
“That dog will eat you in one bite. No way am I gonna explain to Bray that I let that happen.”
“I know what I’m doing. Come on, you have to trust me on this one. If I’m wrong, you can dart her.”
“What can it hurt?” Tom offered.
“Hey, I’m twice Eric’s size and those teeth look pretty big to me.”
Turning toward Rita, Eric asked, “Has the dog always been so aggressive?”
Rita shook her head. “Not really. I mean, she never really went after any of us but, the only one she would let get really close to her was my husband’s youngest son.”
“How old is he?”
“He was twelve at the time. My father and I haven’t spoken for nearly five years,” she explained.
“How tall was your step-son?”
“Honestly, he was about your size.”
“And is your husband taller?”
“Yes, he’s about five eleven.”
“Was she distrustful of him?”
“Oh, absolutely. If he tried to pet her, she’d nip at his hand. But she was never this aggressive.”
“What are you thinking?” Tim asked.
“I’m thinking that maybe my size will be an advantage,” Eric replied, pulling a cookie from his shirt pocket, and stepping slowly through the door. “Hey there, Sasha,” he said quietly. The dog growled softly and stared at him. Confidently, he stepped closer, tucking the thick blue leash into the back pocket of his jeans. He held up the cookie and broke off a small piece. As the dog watched him nervously, he stuck the piece into his mouth. She licked her lips as he chewed slowly. “That’s a good girl,” he soothed, holding the cookie out to her. Tentatively, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “You’re a good girl,” he repeated.
Once again, the dog licked her lips.
Tom brought the air gun up and aimed at the dog’s rear flank, just in case it was necessary to sedate her. “If he goes after you, just drop to the floor, I have a clear shot,” he whispered.
Eric held up his hand. “It’s okay,” he replied. Turning back toward the dog, he repeated, “Easy, Sasha. Good girl.” He stepped ever closer.
Sasha, let out a soft, “Rowrff.”
“I know,” Eric cooed, “You’re a good girl. But now, it’s time to relax and let them look after your dad.” He stretched his hands out in front of him, offering the cookie. Carefully, he broke off another small piece and stuck it into his mouth. “Mmm,” he muttered, “It’s a good cookie for a good dog.” He took another step, closer.
The dog backed against the chair and let out a soft whine.
“Sit,” Eric commanded.
The dog’s rear end dropped to the floor with a soft thud.
Quickly, he broke the cookie in half. “Good dog,” he praised as he gently tossed one part to Sasha. She caught it easily and gobbled it down. “You want the rest?” he asked.
Rocking back and forth, it was clear the dog wanted the remaining piece of cookie.
“You have to come and get it,” he said.
“Well, I’ll be a son of a…” Tim said as he watched the dog step nervously toward the smaller man.
“That’s a good dog,” Eric repeated, once more as Sasha stretched and gently took the cookie from his hand. He quickly removed another from his shirt pocket as the dog swallowed. Being certain he had her attention, he bit off a small piece, looked at Sasha and asked, “Can you sit for me again?”
Tom lowered the gun as the dog dropped to the floor.
“Lay down,” Eric commanded.
Sasha let out a soft, “Woof,” and dropped her chest to the floor, stretching her large paws in front of her.
By now, Eric was directly in front of Sasha. By stretching just slightly, he let her sniff his right hand while he offered the cookie with his left. “Easy,” he whispered. “Good dog,” he added as she gently took the cookie from his hand. Cautiously, he placed his fingers on the dog’s head, ready to pull back if she snapped at him. Shifting his weight slightly, he was able to gently stroke the dog’s head. “Good dog,” he repeated while she chomped the cookie, small bits falling to the hardwood floor.
“Careful, Eric,” Tom called from the open door.
Eric turned his head just slightly and replied, “It’s okay.” Before he could refocus his attention, the dog lunged forward, putting her paws on his chest, and causing him to tumble backwards onto the floor.
Tom quickly raised the pistol and took aim.
“Don’t shoot!” Eric shouted as the dog licked his face and sniffed his clothes, searching for another cookie. “She just wants more cookies,” he added as he quickly clipped the end of the leash onto the dog’s collar.
With the dog secure, paramedics moved in to check on Mister Brown. Eric leaned against the side of the van, wiping his face with a wet towel.
“How the hell did you do that?” Tim asked as he and Tom approached from across the street. “That was freakin’ amazing.”
Taking a long drink of cold water, Eric replied, “I just appealed to her senses.”
“What does that mean,” Tom asked.
“Well, I noticed that Mister Brown isn’t a very large man.”
“And?” Tim quizzed.
Looking up at the two much taller men, Eric smiled. “Well, face it, you guys are pretty intimidating,” he answered with a chuckle. “If you noticed, she was a lot calmer when I approached her.”
Tom scratched his head. “So, you were more on her level then?” he asked.
“Exactly. You guys towered over her. I knelt down so she could look me in the eye.”
“And, by taking a bite of the cookie first, you gave her the impression you were sharing your food with her,” Tim added.
Eric snapped his fingers. “You know, there might be hope for you yet,” he teased. All three men laughed. Patting the side of his van, Eric added, “I better get her back to the shelter.”
“You go on, I’ll take care of the paperwork,” Tim offered as the smaller man hoisted himself behind the wheel and pulled the door shut.
“See ya back at the ranch,” Eric said, starting the engine. Before putting the vehicle in gear, he reached for the radio microphone that was clipped to the dash. “Three to base,” he stated.
“Base go ahead three,” was the response.
“I’m bringing in one female Doberman,” he offered, “I should be there in about thirty minutes.”
“Okay, we’ll see you when you get here,” the female voice continued. “Base clear.”
“Three clear,” he added, dropping the microphone into his lap, and putting the van in gear. Pulling away from the curb, he waved to Tom and Tim as the paramedics, followed by Rita, exited the front door of the modest home. Another van approached as Eric neared the corner. Stopping at the intersection, Eric waved as Ben, a volunteer at the shelter, crossed and stopped next to him. “What’s up?” Eric asked. “Hey Dylan,” he called when he noticed the young doctor in the passenger seat.
Ben shook his head, his long blond hair falling across his face. Brushing the hair from his eyes, he answered, “Me and Dylan was just on our way back when Brady called to say they might need us here.” Dylan waved from the opposite side of the vehicle.
“I guess they’re ready to start loading up the animals,” Eric offered before proceeding through the intersection. “Catch ya later,” he called.
****
Eric was walking toward his van when the others arrived with Mr. Brown’s animals. As Ben backed into the garage of building two, Eric hollered, “What took you guys so long.
Putting his vehicle in park and turning off the engine, Ben replied, “We’s just about done rasslin’ all o’ them cats when a neighbor comes over and tells us they’s more critters in the barn out back.”
“How many were there?” Eric asked as Tim maneuvered his truck in beside Ben’s.
Ben took a long pull on his water bottle before answering, “Eleven cats, eighteen bunnies, two goats, two geese, four ducks and two little piggies.”
Tim chimed in, “And two pairs of lovebirds in the back bedroom.”
Handing his paperwork to Tim, Ben stepped out of the van and stepped around to the back. “Phew! I need a shower bad.”
“I told you to watch out for those pigs,” Tim said with a laugh. Turning toward Eric, he added, “One of ‘em went, wee wee wee all over Ben.”
“And right after that I stepped in some goat shit and landed flat on my back,” Ben added.
Anyway, sit back and enjoy as Brady, Darin and the rest of the crew carry on. Don't hesitate to let me know your thoughts and I hope you enjoy this as much as I've enjoyed bringing it to you.
Thank you for reading and I wish you all the best.
RacerBear
BLACK SHEEP FARM
Spending most of their days overseeing the operation of Black Sheep Farm had brought Brady Tortellino and his partner, Darin Johnson, even closer together. While most psychologists would warn that it’s never good for couples to work and live together, it seemed to be a good arrangement for the pair. Even though most of their day was spent in the same building, they both took on different roles in the day-to-day operations of the facility. Often, the only time they actually spent together during the day was when they walked back to the house for lunch. In the two years since the couple had purchased the run-down chicken farm, they had made almost constant improvements to the property. Not only had they completely renovated the existing buildings, but they had added numerous smaller out buildings as well. The original twin structures, each measuring about fifty feet wide and two-hundred feet long, had been converted to house as many as a hundred dogs and almost that many cats. Through their efforts, over a thousand stray and unwanted animals had found new homes with many more having been turned over to breed specific and specialty rescues.
Brady had established a circle of contacts that included reptile and bird rescue groups as well and animals had been shipped to a number of zoos throughout the country and as far away as Ontario, Canada. The animal Welfare league of North America, one of the first to offer financial assistance through a grant program, was so impressed with their efforts that they had pledged fifty thousand dollars per year for the first five years of operation. Community support had come in both monetary and physical ways. One local high school offered credits in both business and sociology for time spent volunteering. The gay community had also embraced the farm and a huge number of volunteers spent countless hours cleaning, feeding, and helping maintain the grounds and buildings.
Not only were countless numbers of dogs and cats rescued but many other farm animals had been found new homes as well. Through a program set up by the local sheriff’s department, several deer, and other wild animals, who were injured by cars and careless hunters, were also turned over to rehabilitators and returned to the wild or located to zoos or other facilities.
Both were quick to point out, however, that the success of the operation was not due to their involvement alone. It took a lot of effort from not only the paid staff but also a large number of volunteers. Brady’s childhood friend, Tim Gardner had been an integral part of helping get the operation started and had worked with his friend at another facility until financial issues had forced its closing. Tim had taken over as head of rescue operations and coordinated the efforts of the many rescue drivers. Jake Daniels had come onboard to oversee fund raising at the farm after having been Darin’s assistant with his previous employer. Becky and Cathy Jacobs had come from the previous facility and had taken charge of adoptions and intake. Staff veterinarian, Dylan Edwards and his wife, Tina made certain that every animal coming into the shelter had whatever necessary medical treatment and kept all up to date on vaccines. While there were only a handful of paid staff when the operation began, that number had grown considerably. Numerous volunteers spent many hours feeding the animals, cleaning cages and kennels, taking dogs out to play and transporting the animals to veterinary appointments, not to mention the many rescues handled on a daily basis.
Construction at the facility had been almost nonstop; the most recent project having been the conversion of the twelve-foot-wide space between the two buildings into office space with a second-floor employee lounge and locker rooms. Offices for the vet staff and additional exam rooms, along with additional storage had been added. Garage space had also been constructed on the north end of both buildings to enable rescue drivers to drive inside to unload, thus keeping the chance for runaways to a minimum.
With continued growth of the operation a certainty, the couple had purchased two rather large parcels of wooded property on either side of the farm. A small amount of the wooded area to the west had been cleared for construction of a sixty by one-hundred-foot building that housed a thrift store which was managed by Darin’s mother, Sylvia. The property on the east side was used to position a number of trailer homes for various staff members, replacing some of the smaller homes that sat in the northeast corner of the original property.
Following one of their monthly ‘no questions asked pet surrender’ events, plans were in the works for an adoption promotion in hopes of clearing up space for more animals.
******
It was just past ten o’clock on a Monday morning when a tall, white-haired gentleman entered the reception area of the office. Kathy sat behind the counter collating bundles of adoption papers. Looking up from her work, she asked, “Can I help you?”
He smiled, revealing perfectly white teeth. “I certainly hope so,” he said extending his hand. “I’m George Whitesal,” he added, “And I’d like to offer my services to your fine organization.”
Kathy stood and accepted his hand, shaking it as she replied, “You mean you’d like to volunteer?”
“Yes, that’s correct,” George answered.
“Do you have much experience with animals?” Kathy quizzed.
George smiled once more and shook his head. “We had a dog years ago but when she passed it was just too painful. Like losing a child.”
Kathy nodded in agreement. “I certainly know how that is. It would just about kill me if I lost either of my dogs.” She moved around the counter and stepped toward Brady’s office. Tapping on the open door, she announced, “Brady, I have a young gentleman here who would like to volunteer.”
Brady, who was making notes on one of the many sheets of paper scattered across his desk, rose from his chair. “Send him in,” he replied, pulling the papers together into a pile. When George entered the room, he extended his hand and said, “I’m Brady Tortellino.”
Once again, George smiled as he shook Brady’s hand. “I’m pleased to meet you, young man, George Whitesal, at your service.”
Motioning for George to take a seat, Brady said, “Pleased to meet you, George,” as he returned to his own seat. “What is it that led you to volunteer here?”
“While I was waiting at the hospital the other day, one of the nurses, I believe her name was Sara, said that she and her husband volunteer here. I thought it a splendid way to spend the time,” George answered.
“May I ask which hospital?” Brady inquired.
“It was Saint Michael’s,” was the reply. “William, my partner, has to go for dialysis every other day and it takes several hours. Plus, when he gets back home, he’s so tired that he just wants to sleep. We have a young man who looks after him and takes him for his appointments. He’s been badgering me to find something to occupy my time rather than sit and wait at the hospital.”
“I’m sorry to hear that he’s ill,” Brady offered, “How long have you two been together?”
George scratched his chin and smiled, once again. “Forty-nine years,” he said proudly.
“That’s amazing,” Brady said, a broad smile crossing his handsome face. “Darin and I have only been together about a year but, hopefully, we can make it that long. Congratulations.”
“Thank you. They gave William six months to live…nearly two years ago. He’s a fighter, that one. He says he wants to dance at our fiftieth anniversary celebration and,” he paused to wipe a tear from his left eye with his thumb, “I believe he will.”
Brady retrieved a box of tissues from atop the credenza behind his desk and handed it to George. “That’s just amazing,” he repeated. “I bet you ‘ve seen a lot of change over the years,” he offered.
George pulled a tissue from the box and dabbed at the corners of his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he began, “It was rather dangerous for us in the early days,” he began. “You had to be extremely careful. We moved to San Francisco because we heard that there was a fairly large community there. We came from a small town in Ohio so, neither of us even knew how to be gay.” His smile returned as he shared the memory with Brady. “It was nineteen fifty-two and I had just come home from my junior year of college. I went to work at my uncle’s shoe store, and I was counting the days until I could go back to school. One day, the most handsome young man came into the store, with his mother, looking for a new pair of dress shoes. I could not take my eyes off him. I helped him try on several pairs of shoes before he decided on a pair of black wing tips. He was just so handsome, freshly graduated from high school.”
Brady leaned his elbows on his desk as he listened intently. “So, was it love at first sight? “ he asked.
“Oh, hardly, “ George replied with a soft laugh. “Okay, well, perhaps for me. “
“How did the two of you actually get together?” Brady inquired.
George took a deep breath. “Over the next couple of weeks, William used any excuse he could find to come into the store. He bought shoe polish, laces, anything he could think of. Finally, one afternoon when I was preparing to close the store for the day, he stopped in and just asked me if I would like to go to dinner with him.”
“Did you go?” Brady asked, hopefully.
Shaking his head, George replied, “Not then, no. His family lived near my family, so I agreed to walk home with him. We chatted about nothing in particular. He told me he lived with his parents and two younger sisters. At no time did either of us broach the subject of whether or not either of us was gay. I just was not discussed.”
Engrossed in George’s story, Brady did not notice Darin standing in the doorway. “Sorry to interrupt,” Darin offered, entering the office. “Hello, I’m Darin Johnson,” he said, extending his hand to George.
“George was telling me about how he and his partner, William, met,” Brady told Darin. He turned to George and urged, “Go on.”
“Yes, please go on,” Darin agreed, taking the seat next to George.
George took a deep breath before continuing his story. “Let’s see, where was I?”
“You had just walked home from work with William,” Brady offered.’
“Ah, yes, well,” he paused, “We began walking home each afternoon and we really became good friends.” He smiled again as he recalled, “One afternoon, he asked me if I knew what it was like to have a secret that you felt you could never share with anyone.” He paused, once again. “I told him I thought I knew what he meant but he didn’t share anything more with me that day.” He turned to Brady and continued, “For years, I thought I was the only one who felt this way. I had no idea there were others out there who were dealing with the same demons that I was.”
Brady sighed. “I think we’ve all felt that way at one time or another.”
Nodding his agreement, George continued, “But it’s much easier to find someone today. Back then you had to be so incredibly careful in whom you confided. If you told the wrong person, you could find yourself locked away in a mental institution.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “One young man I knew from college found himself in a similar situation. His father was a Pentecostal minister. When he felt he could carry his secret no longer, he confided in his older sister. Late one night, his father and several other ministers dragged him from his bed and forced him to undergo an emergency exorcism. He told me, years later, he had never been so frightened in his life. His father kept slapping him and shouting, ‘Release him, Satan!’ He told me he had never seen such hatred in his father’s eyes.”
“My parents threw me out when they found out,” Brady offered sadly. “I grew up in Illinois and was engaged to be married. I finally told my fiancé the truth and she was relieved that I was finally honest with her. She’s since married someone else. I still hear from her occasionally.”
“I know many men who went through with marriage, and, for a time, they were truly happy,” George replied. “Eventually, though, the truth was revealed, and they found themselves lost and very much alone.”
Kathy stepped into the open door and motioned to Brady. “Tom’s on line two,” she announced, “He says it’s urgent.”
Brady excused himself as he picked up the phone. “Hi, Tom, what’s up?” His expression turned serious as he turned and punched some keys on his computer keyboard. “What’s the address?” He grabbed the mouse, made a few clicks, and brought up another screen. “No, I’ve got it on Map quest…I’ll print it out…The dog’s guarding the body? No, I don’t want to dart him unless we absolutely have to…Okay, I’ll send Dylan just in case…How many other animals?” Brady made notes on a pad in front of him. “Okay, we’ll send two trucks,” he added, “See you soon.” Turning to George, he said, “There’s a volunteer group meeting tomorrow afternoon at three o’clock. If you can make it, I’d be happy to have you join us.”
Standing, George extended his hand once again. “That sounds splendid. May I inquire as to the nature of your call?”
Brady nodded. “A county police officer was sent to do a ‘wellness check’ on an elderly resident and found his large Doberman guarding the body.”
“Oh, dear,” George offered.
“The paramedics can’t get in to check him out until the dog is secure,” Brady explained. “I need to send a crew and see if we can get him under control. Then, paramedics can remove the man’s body and the family can go in and start cleanup.”
George shook his head. “It’s sad, isn’t it?”
“What’s that?” Brady asked, confused.
“That we, as humans, can’t show the same unconditional love for one another that our pets show,” George replied. Extending his hand, he smiled and offered, “I’ll see you tomorrow at three.”
****
Tim parked his rescue van in front of the neat ranch style home. A tall police officer approached as a second van parked across the street. Sliding from the van, Tim said, “Hey, Tom, what’s up?”
“The dog’s pretty agitated,” Tom replied, “He won’t let anyone get close to the man. Looks like natural causes.”
Tim grabbed his control stick from behind the driver’s seat and closed the door just as Eric Baker approached from across the street carrying a similar device. Standing barely five feet tall, Eric was dwarfed by the other men. What he lacked in physical size, however, he made up for in ability. In his short career at the shelter, he had already proven himself very capable in a number of rescues. “Where’s the dog?” Eric asked, pulling a ball cap over his curly hair. From a distance, he looked like he was around twelve. Up close, however, it was obvious that he was an adult. Eric waited while Tom Jefferson, an officer with the county police department, explained the situation.
“The homeowner is a Mister Joseph Brown,” Tom explained. “Apparently, he passed away while watching television sometime last evening. A neighbor who helps take care of his animals couldn’t get any response when he knocked this morning, so he called us to do a wellness check.” He paused as a dark blue, late model Ford Taurus approached and stopped behind his police cruiser. A small, round woman with short blond hair pulled herself from behind the wheel and, smoothing the front of her skirt, approached the three men.
“I’m Rita Spencer,” the woman told Tom, “I got a call from the neighbor telling me there was a problem with my father.”
Tom approached the woman slowly. “I’m sorry to inform you that,” he paused, “It appears that your father has passed away.”
She blinked and thought for a moment. “What do you mean, it appears?” she asked.
Tom shook his head, choosing his words carefully. Finally, he added, “His dog won’t let us get close enough to be certain.”
A nervous smile appeared on Rita’s face. “That dog always has been very protective of him," she said.
“Do you think you could coax the dog away from him?” Tim inquired, hopefully.
“Oh, heavens no,” Rita replied. “That dog never wanted anything to do with anyone but him.”
Tim tightened his grip on the control stick and, after removing a small bag of dog treats from the van, he started toward the house. “Better get this over with,” he stated. As he entered the house, he could see Mister Brown seated in his recliner, his sock covered feet resting on the footrest and the large, chocolate brown Doberman seated next to him. As he approached, the dog rose to its feet, growling. Slowly, he stepped closer as the dog barked a sharp warning and bared its teeth.
“Careful, Tim,” Tom called from outside the front door. “He acts pretty mean.”
“Actually, he’s a she,” Rita whispered to Eric, “Her name is Sasha.”
Tim held out a dog biscuit, offering it to Sasha. “Easy, fella,” he said, softly, “Nobody’s here to hurt you.” The dog pinned its ears back and growled menacingly. Without taking his eyes off the dog, Tim called, over his shoulder, to Tom, “You might want to get the tranquilizer dart ready, just in case.”
From his vantage-point behind Tom, Eric studied the scene inside the house. Even though Mister Brown was seated in his recliner, Eric could tell that he was not an exceptionally large man. “How tall is your father?” he whispered to Rita.
She thought for a moment. “I don’t know, around five three maybe,” she replied. “Why?”
“I have an idea,” he said before sprinting to the van parked across the street. Within seconds, he returned with a package of oatmeal cookies. Removing several from the pack, he tucked them into the pocket of his red shirt and handed the package to Rita. “Tim?” he called softly.
The dog snarled, sucking in air as she lunged toward Tim. Stepping back quickly, Tim bumped into the coffee table and tumbled onto the dark green sofa. The dog’s nails clicked on the hardwood floor as she bounded toward him. Tossing a handful of biscuits onto the floor in front of Sasha, Tim scrambled toward the door. Only when he was safely on the porch, with the front door closed behind him, did he look back to find the dog chomping on the treats and growling. “Dammit, he’s one aggressive sum-bitch!” Tim exclaimed.
“Let me try,” Eric offered. “I think I know what you guys are doing wrong.”
“Are you freakin’ kiddin’ me?”
“Not at all. I really think I know why she is so upset at you and Tom.”
“That dog will eat you in one bite. No way am I gonna explain to Bray that I let that happen.”
“I know what I’m doing. Come on, you have to trust me on this one. If I’m wrong, you can dart her.”
“What can it hurt?” Tom offered.
“Hey, I’m twice Eric’s size and those teeth look pretty big to me.”
Turning toward Rita, Eric asked, “Has the dog always been so aggressive?”
Rita shook her head. “Not really. I mean, she never really went after any of us but, the only one she would let get really close to her was my husband’s youngest son.”
“How old is he?”
“He was twelve at the time. My father and I haven’t spoken for nearly five years,” she explained.
“How tall was your step-son?”
“Honestly, he was about your size.”
“And is your husband taller?”
“Yes, he’s about five eleven.”
“Was she distrustful of him?”
“Oh, absolutely. If he tried to pet her, she’d nip at his hand. But she was never this aggressive.”
“What are you thinking?” Tim asked.
“I’m thinking that maybe my size will be an advantage,” Eric replied, pulling a cookie from his shirt pocket, and stepping slowly through the door. “Hey there, Sasha,” he said quietly. The dog growled softly and stared at him. Confidently, he stepped closer, tucking the thick blue leash into the back pocket of his jeans. He held up the cookie and broke off a small piece. As the dog watched him nervously, he stuck the piece into his mouth. She licked her lips as he chewed slowly. “That’s a good girl,” he soothed, holding the cookie out to her. Tentatively, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “You’re a good girl,” he repeated.
Once again, the dog licked her lips.
Tom brought the air gun up and aimed at the dog’s rear flank, just in case it was necessary to sedate her. “If he goes after you, just drop to the floor, I have a clear shot,” he whispered.
Eric held up his hand. “It’s okay,” he replied. Turning back toward the dog, he repeated, “Easy, Sasha. Good girl.” He stepped ever closer.
Sasha, let out a soft, “Rowrff.”
“I know,” Eric cooed, “You’re a good girl. But now, it’s time to relax and let them look after your dad.” He stretched his hands out in front of him, offering the cookie. Carefully, he broke off another small piece and stuck it into his mouth. “Mmm,” he muttered, “It’s a good cookie for a good dog.” He took another step, closer.
The dog backed against the chair and let out a soft whine.
“Sit,” Eric commanded.
The dog’s rear end dropped to the floor with a soft thud.
Quickly, he broke the cookie in half. “Good dog,” he praised as he gently tossed one part to Sasha. She caught it easily and gobbled it down. “You want the rest?” he asked.
Rocking back and forth, it was clear the dog wanted the remaining piece of cookie.
“You have to come and get it,” he said.
“Well, I’ll be a son of a…” Tim said as he watched the dog step nervously toward the smaller man.
“That’s a good dog,” Eric repeated, once more as Sasha stretched and gently took the cookie from his hand. He quickly removed another from his shirt pocket as the dog swallowed. Being certain he had her attention, he bit off a small piece, looked at Sasha and asked, “Can you sit for me again?”
Tom lowered the gun as the dog dropped to the floor.
“Lay down,” Eric commanded.
Sasha let out a soft, “Woof,” and dropped her chest to the floor, stretching her large paws in front of her.
By now, Eric was directly in front of Sasha. By stretching just slightly, he let her sniff his right hand while he offered the cookie with his left. “Easy,” he whispered. “Good dog,” he added as she gently took the cookie from his hand. Cautiously, he placed his fingers on the dog’s head, ready to pull back if she snapped at him. Shifting his weight slightly, he was able to gently stroke the dog’s head. “Good dog,” he repeated while she chomped the cookie, small bits falling to the hardwood floor.
“Careful, Eric,” Tom called from the open door.
Eric turned his head just slightly and replied, “It’s okay.” Before he could refocus his attention, the dog lunged forward, putting her paws on his chest, and causing him to tumble backwards onto the floor.
Tom quickly raised the pistol and took aim.
“Don’t shoot!” Eric shouted as the dog licked his face and sniffed his clothes, searching for another cookie. “She just wants more cookies,” he added as he quickly clipped the end of the leash onto the dog’s collar.
With the dog secure, paramedics moved in to check on Mister Brown. Eric leaned against the side of the van, wiping his face with a wet towel.
“How the hell did you do that?” Tim asked as he and Tom approached from across the street. “That was freakin’ amazing.”
Taking a long drink of cold water, Eric replied, “I just appealed to her senses.”
“What does that mean,” Tom asked.
“Well, I noticed that Mister Brown isn’t a very large man.”
“And?” Tim quizzed.
Looking up at the two much taller men, Eric smiled. “Well, face it, you guys are pretty intimidating,” he answered with a chuckle. “If you noticed, she was a lot calmer when I approached her.”
Tom scratched his head. “So, you were more on her level then?” he asked.
“Exactly. You guys towered over her. I knelt down so she could look me in the eye.”
“And, by taking a bite of the cookie first, you gave her the impression you were sharing your food with her,” Tim added.
Eric snapped his fingers. “You know, there might be hope for you yet,” he teased. All three men laughed. Patting the side of his van, Eric added, “I better get her back to the shelter.”
“You go on, I’ll take care of the paperwork,” Tim offered as the smaller man hoisted himself behind the wheel and pulled the door shut.
“See ya back at the ranch,” Eric said, starting the engine. Before putting the vehicle in gear, he reached for the radio microphone that was clipped to the dash. “Three to base,” he stated.
“Base go ahead three,” was the response.
“I’m bringing in one female Doberman,” he offered, “I should be there in about thirty minutes.”
“Okay, we’ll see you when you get here,” the female voice continued. “Base clear.”
“Three clear,” he added, dropping the microphone into his lap, and putting the van in gear. Pulling away from the curb, he waved to Tom and Tim as the paramedics, followed by Rita, exited the front door of the modest home. Another van approached as Eric neared the corner. Stopping at the intersection, Eric waved as Ben, a volunteer at the shelter, crossed and stopped next to him. “What’s up?” Eric asked. “Hey Dylan,” he called when he noticed the young doctor in the passenger seat.
Ben shook his head, his long blond hair falling across his face. Brushing the hair from his eyes, he answered, “Me and Dylan was just on our way back when Brady called to say they might need us here.” Dylan waved from the opposite side of the vehicle.
“I guess they’re ready to start loading up the animals,” Eric offered before proceeding through the intersection. “Catch ya later,” he called.
****
Eric was walking toward his van when the others arrived with Mr. Brown’s animals. As Ben backed into the garage of building two, Eric hollered, “What took you guys so long.
Putting his vehicle in park and turning off the engine, Ben replied, “We’s just about done rasslin’ all o’ them cats when a neighbor comes over and tells us they’s more critters in the barn out back.”
“How many were there?” Eric asked as Tim maneuvered his truck in beside Ben’s.
Ben took a long pull on his water bottle before answering, “Eleven cats, eighteen bunnies, two goats, two geese, four ducks and two little piggies.”
Tim chimed in, “And two pairs of lovebirds in the back bedroom.”
Handing his paperwork to Tim, Ben stepped out of the van and stepped around to the back. “Phew! I need a shower bad.”
“I told you to watch out for those pigs,” Tim said with a laugh. Turning toward Eric, he added, “One of ‘em went, wee wee wee all over Ben.”
“And right after that I stepped in some goat shit and landed flat on my back,” Ben added.
