CHAPTER 11:
SAMMY LEARNS TO SNUGGLE
Rav and Sammy spent hours in the play yard with Best Boy. He was the sweetest, gentlest, most loving dog, and Sammy adored him. But they had to work with him when all the other dogs were inside. If Best Boy saw another dog, he turned into a different animal. He would growl and snap and lunge at them, pulling his leash. So Rav said it was better to keep him clear of other dogs to just "take that worry away from him."
Sammy liked that, take that worry away from him. It was nice to have someone take away your worries. And it was true. Best Boy needed to get comfortable with Sammy and Rav first, to know he was safe at Hold My Paw and could relax there, that he didn't have to fight. Rav showed Sammy how to teach "sit" and "stay" and "leave it" and "down" and "quiet" and "come." Sammy did the training over and over again with Best Boy out in the heat of the August afternoons, until Best Boy could respond to each command with the slightest hand gesture or even just a look on Sammy's face.
It was so much fun! Sammy could teach! That was amazing. It made him feel so big in the world. It was good to be a man, to be the strong and kind one with Best Boy, to be the leader. And if Sammy could help Best Boy, he was sure he could help a lot of other dogs too. For the first time, Sammy felt excited for the future, for what he could do and be, for the way he could make the world better and love himself too. Maybe he could be like Rav for real.
Sometimes, when they worked in the yard together, and Best Boy looked at him with those shining eyes—show me what to do next. I can do it!—Sammy felt so proud and grateful it choked him, closing up his throat. At those times, Best Boy would lick Sammy's face. It's okay, he seemed to say. All the feels you get, it's okay with me. I'm so grateful and happy too!
After Best Boy had the basic commands down, Rav got some advice from a friend who worked with fighter dogs. The important thing was to help Best Boy learn not to react to other dogs. Rav said they might never be able to trust Best Boy loose around other dogs, but they could help him get better. Rav would bring another dog into the play yard on leash—a calm one like Zachary, an old golden retriever. Rav would walk the other dog around the yard while Sammy walked Best Boy on a strong leash and halter. Sammy kept distracting Best Boy's attention from the other dog with little cubes of cheese.
At first, they kept the dogs six feet apart, then five, then four. Sometimes Best Boy snapped and lunged, but Sammy said no and held him firm. And Best Boy really liked cheese! He began to associate another dog in the yard with getting yummy cheese. And when the other dogs never threatened Best Boy, and he never had to fight, he got more relaxed. Sammy talked to him all the while, telling him he didn't have to be afraid, that it would be good to have friends.
Maybe, Sammy thought, he should listen to his own teaching. Was it possible to teach yourself?
It would be good to have friends.
While Best Boy learned, Sammy learned too.
All through that long, hot August, he learned so much from Rav. Some things Rav showed him, like how to change a light bulb or clip a dog's nails. But Sammy also learned by watching Rav. He was learning so fast, it felt to Sammy as though he was made out of dry dust, and he was soaking in rain, more and more, and it was filling him up and bringing him to life. Sammy learned from the way Rav acted with the dogs and all the quickened who volunteered. He learned from the way Rav treated Sammy himself.
Sammy especially liked watching Rav with the dogs. By the end of August, the shelter was at capacity with sixty dogs. They had lots of volunteers to help walk the dogs or play with them. But no matter how many people were around, Rav was always in charge. It wasn't because he was mean or yelled, it was just the way he carried himself. When he was in the room, the dogs paid attention to him. They had respect for him and obeyed. But when he invited them to play, they loved that the best! Jules and Sampson, two boxers, loved to play Frisbee with Rav. And the little dogs like Tally were so happy when he picked them up. If Rav sat down in the common room, all the dogs wanted to be in his lap.
They all wanted to be touched by, petted, hugged by Rav. Usually he wore a shirt with no sleeves, and the blue tattoos would flex over his muscles, moving pictures. His hands were big and strong, but they looked so gentle when they scratched or rubbed. Rav's face was happy, and his lips curved into a smile—the kind that came up from your heart. He didn't look big or scary at all when he was petting a dog.
The more Sammy watched Rav with the dogs, the more new feelings stirred inside him. He wanted to play with Rav too. No, that wasn't right. He wanted to be touched. He wanted to sit in Rav's lap and feel his strength, feel safe. He wanted to be soothed by those hands. He craved it very much! He felt jealous of the dogs.
Feeling jealous was terrible. Sammy shouldn't want that. Because he wasn't a dog anymore. It was confusing.
Once, when Sammy first started working at the shelter, Rav invited him back to his apartment for dinner. I'm making spaghetti for dinner if you're hungry. But Sammy had refused so strongly that Rav never asked again.
He'd been such a coward! Sammy now wished he hadn't said no. He wanted Rav to ask again!
He tried to hide those want-y, jealous feelings. But he wasn't very good at hiding things. One day Rav looked up from petting a dog and caught Sammy staring. Rav stared back, his face calm, but there was a light in those brown eyes that made Sammy's heartbeat go crazy. Rav smiled.
Sammy turned away and grabbed the broom.
He swept a lot of floors that week!
One Tuesday night, after all the dogs were fed and put in their kennels for the night, Sammy was sweeping the kitchen floor, hard. He'd been feeling particularly wanty all day and was out of sorts about it. He swept and swept, so caught up in the whisk, whisk of the broom that he didn't realize Rav had come into the kitchen until the broom hit a pair of heavy black boots.
Rav was leaning against the sink, arms folded over his chest, watching Sammy.
"Oh." Sammy stopped sweeping. He looked at the wall and then at the light overhead, waiting for Rav to move. But he didn't.
"Sammy."
"Yeah?" Sammy made himself look Rav in the eyes, because that was what men did. He tried a smile on for size. It felt weird.
Rav looked over Sammy's face, his eyes soft. "You look tired."
"I do?" Sammy had been in the sun a lot with Best Boy that day. He was a little sleepy.
"Do you think…." Rav cleared his throat. "Do you think maybe you need a hug?"
Sammy froze. Rav knew. He knew Sammy wanted to be petted! Should he feel embarrassed about it? Maybe. But he was tired, and he was sick of feeling confused.
"Yes," Sammy said. "I need a hug."
Rav smiled in that lopsided way, like Sammy had said something funny. He held out his arms. "That's lucky. Because I happen to be giving out free hugs today."
The broom clattered to the floor. Sammy stepped into Rav's arms and let himself be pulled in. His cheek rested on Rav's shoulder and his arms were folded in against Rav's chest and he was shaking. It felt like he'd just set down a thousand-pound weight. His whole body felt so heavy and so good inside. It was a little scary still, because it was new and he wanted it so much. But Rav's arms were gentle and he felt comfortable and comforted.
He closed his eyes and took in deep breaths, drinking in Rav's scent. It had been a long day, and Rav smelled like sweat, like disinfectant, and like dogs. But he also smelled like Rav—a scent that was as compelling as the scent of small furry things, as hot as sunshine, and salty in a way that made Sammy's mouth water. The first time he'd smelled this, Sammy had been in a cage in Flagstaff, waiting to die. The memory caused his chest to tighten, and he burrowed deeper into Rav's arms. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
Would he ever be able to repay Rav? Would he ever stop feeling weak in the knees when he remembered what Rav had done for him?
Rav stroked his back for long time, cradling him so sweetly. Sammy sighed and settled in. He was so tired…..
"Sammy?" Rav's voice was quiet.
"Yeah?"
"Just thinking maybe we could sit down for this. Wanna come over to my apartment? I can make dinner."
Sammy smiled against the now-damp fabric of Rav's shirt where he'd been drooling. "Okay."
* * *
Rav had no idea what he was doing as he took Sammy across the parking lot to his apartment, still in a semi-hug since Sammy hadn’t shown any inclination to let go. He'd been noticing for a few weeks the way Sammy looked at him, especially when Rav was giving attention to the dogs.
Sammy, like most of the quickened Rav had met, was the antithesis of cool and aloof. Every emotion showed on his face, and the one he wore at such times could best be described as "naked longing."
It was a marked improvement from the days when Sammy jumped out of his skin if Rav got too close. Rav remained patient, though. It would be best if Sammy came to him. But Sammy, bless his heart, was stubborn. He needed a nudge. As it turned out, not a very big nudge either.
So there they'd stood in the shelter's kitchen with all six foot of Sammy in Rav's arms, utterly surrendered, and with every apparent intention to stay there. God, it felt good to hold him. As real as Sammy obviously was, at times, he almost seemed like an illusion—the very idea of him was so fantastical. But the solid weight of him against Rav's chest was undeniable and undeniably human and male. His hair against Rav's chin felt like coarse satin. He was so warm too—probably a few degrees above a normal human temp. It was like hugging a furnace. A very, very attractive furnace.
Mentally, Rav wasn't comfortable with the idea of being with a dog shifter in a romantic-sexual way, even though clearly there were mixed couples in town like Tim and Lance. However, the logic centers of Rav's brain were pretty much bypassed entirely when he held Sammy in his arms.
What was this? Just a friendly cuddle? He had no clue.
Inside Rav’s apartment, they stood in the tiny living room. Sammy looked around, barely lifting his head from Rav's shoulder. The room still smelled a little of machine oil from when the place had been a garage. The couch was an old one he'd bought at a used furniture shop in Fresno, but it was comfortable. Sammy stared at it.
"Why don't you relax while I make dinner?" Rav suggested. "You can take a nap on the couch if you like."
"Thank you," Sammy said politely. He let go of Rav and went to sit on the couch, perching on the edge of it as if he was trying to be extra polite and proper.
Rav smiled to himself. Sammy was so damn cute. Had anyone ever made Rav smile like that? He went into the little kitchen to throw something together. He opted for heating up frozen fish sticks and oven fries.
When it was ready, he took two plates, a bottle of ketchup, and two beers out to the living room, using an old cookie sheet as a tray.
He put them on the crate that he used as a coffee table. He had one of those lightning flashes of disconnect. Six years ago, his coffee table was a thousand bucks worth of glass and brass and it was in the middle of a New York penthouse overlooking the city lights.
And the guy sitting on his expensive couch? Not Sammy, that was for sure. Some hot guy, probably a model, and not worth a hair on Sammy's head.
Rav pushed the past away. "Hope you like fish."
"That's fish?" Sammy eyed the golden rectangles doubtfully. "It smells good." He picked up one and bit into it delicately. He smiled. "I like it."
"Hmmm. It's better with ketchup. Everything's better with ketchup. Famous old saying."
Rav sat down and picked up the bottle. He squeezed a red pool onto his plate, then passed the bottle to Sammy. Sammy copied him, making his own little pile of ketchup.
He watched Rav dip one of his fish sticks in the ketchup and eat it. Sammy did the same. Only he got a little overeager and his hand shook. He ended up getting ketchup on his chin.
"I got it," Rav said.
He reached over and then paused, wondering if Sammy would draw back again. But Sammy stuck his chin out and told Rav it was okay with his eyes. Rav ran his thumb over the spot, those big golden eyes so open it was shocking. Christ, why did it hurt to look at Sammy like this? Why did Rav still feel so protective of him? Sammy was fine! It was Rav who was the basket case.
"Thank you," Sammy said adoringly, like Rav had just performed some death-defying feat.
Rav cleared his throat and focused on eating in lieu of running around screaming like a lunatic. Fortunately Sammy focused on his own food and ate hungrily. When he'd finished all the fish and fries, he scraped the last of the ketchup up with his spoon. He looked up and blushed, then put down the spoon. Someone had been teaching him manners, apparently.
Rav smiled at him. "Good?"
"Good. Sorry I ate so fast." Sammy looked guiltily at Rav's plate, which was still half full.
"You don't have to be polite around me. Just be yourself."
"But dogs gobble their food," Sammy blurted, then he looked chagrined. "I mean… I don't want to be greedy, like Tally or Buster."
They stared at each other for a moment. Rav had the urge to tell Sammy that he knew. As if there was any way he wouldn't know by now! But it wasn't a conversation he really wanted to have at the moment, when Sammy was finally willing to trust him.
"We could watch a movie. What do you like?" Rav said instead.
Sammy's eyes grew wide with that slightly panicky look he got when he didn't understand some human thing. "Um… Can you pick one?"
"Sure, I'll pick," Rav said easily.
Sammy smiled gratefully. Then he sat back and stared at the TV as if it would spontaneously sprout popcorn and upcoming movie trailers.
Rav smiled to himself as he gathered up the plates and took them into the kitchen. One thing about Sammy—he never did or said quite what you expected. He didn't offer to help with dishes in that fake way most guests would. It made Rav realize how many norms existed for every social situation, ingrained the way road rash embeds gravel under your skin. He was just as happy to throw those norms out the fucking window, frankly. He preferred honesty. If he wanted help with the dishes, he'd ask Sammy and Sammy would wholeheartedly comply. They didn't need to play games.
Back in the living room, Rav turned on the TV and flipped the channel to TCM. There was a Humphrey Bogart movie on. It was nonthreatening, and besides, Bogart was one smooth mofo. Rav settled down to watch. With the subtlety of a neon sign, Sammy scooted closer and tilted his head toward Rav's shoulder.
"Are hugs still free today, or are they a dollar?" Sammy asked with a slightly hysterical giggle in his voice.
Aw, that was so damn cute. He'd just made a joke!
Rav moved his arm to the back of the couch, and Sammy leaned in, wilting against Rav's side. Rav couldn't resist a nuzzle on the top of Sammy's head. "I'll make you a deal. As long as you work for me, we'll consider hugs part of your compensation package."
"Compen—?"
"Like a bonus, on top of your salary."
"I deserve a bonus," Sammy said smugly. "Because I work very hard."
"Yes you do."
"I taught Best Boy a lot. Can I come over tomorrow night and Best Boy too? We can be like a family."
Sammy said it easily, happily, like it was no big deal. But Rav's heart did an inverted half-Nelson into his throat and lodged there. He swallowed and forced himself to answer just as lightly.
"Sure. We can bring Best Boy over tomorrow night if you want."
"He'd really like this," Sammy said softly, as if he knew for a fact how Best Boy would feel. Maybe he did.
They watched the movie. Sammy sure was heavy for such a slender guy, a bit like snuggling with a lead balloon. But that was fine. Rav could take it. He slowly stroked Sammy's arm as he tried to get into the film. At one point, he stopped touching Sammy, and Sammy took Rav's hand and stroked it along his arm again to show him what was wanted. Rav swallowed a laugh and went back to the soft touch.
Like a family. Sammy just meant "pretend to be a family." Probably. Rav needed to keep reminding himself that Sammy was guileless. He had to just let Sammy be without any expectations—and without any of his human hang-ups and fears surfacing either.
And if Rav's body waved around halfhearted flags of arousal as sweet, warm Sammy lay against him, well that was only hormones. It'd been a while since he'd been with a guy, and Sammy was, to all external appearances, a very hot guy.
To all external appearances. But Sammy wasn't what he appeared to be.
Sammy was a friend and an employee. He seemed… innocent. He'd come into Rav's life for a reason, and now he was squarely at the heart of Rav's world, working with him daily at the shelter.
Was he at the heart literally too? Rav had to admit he was a little obsessed. There was rarely a moment in the day when he wasn't either aware of where Sammy was and what he was doing, or wondering about it. He was fascinated by all the quickened, but Sammy most of all.
Still, this was uncharted territory—as in Narnia. Where it would all end, Rav didn't know. At the moment, Sammy was finally letting him close. And that was enough.
Sammy fell asleep about the time Humphrey was talking about a hill of beans. Rav took off Sammy's shoes, got him a pillow and blanket, and left him to sleep on the couch.