Today’s excerpt is from Monster’s
Palace. After a mission, Clyde
and his dog, Greta, walk to his home, but Greta stops him from going in…thus
saving his life. Enjoy and have a great day.
m.j.
On the walk
home, Clyde always walked on the sidewalk while Greta gleefully smelled
everything she could in the grass. Also,
she didn’t much care for walking on concrete.
Greta had been trained to work with bomb disposal units in
Afghanistan. Her job there was to sniff
out explosives.
Once she, along
with her handler had neared a roadside bomb.
Greta sniffed it out, stopped and barked, even as she pulled back. The handler knew what the situation was
immediately, so started to move back with her, but not in time. The bomb was detonated by remote
control. The handler was severely
injured, while Greta lost part of her right front paw. It so happened Clyde knew the handler, as
they were stationed at the same base.
The handler asked Clyde to look after Greta and he agreed, since he was
due to rotate back to United States shortly.
He took the injured dog with him.
In time, he
mentioned the situation to his friend Bob Becker. Bob had what he thought was a
brainstorm. As it turned out, he was
right. He knew Jim Scott funded a
medical clinic in the St. Louis, Missouri area, which was located near where
Bob lived. The clinic’s main function
was to affix military amputees with bionic limbs. Bob called Jim to ask if a dog could get a
prosthesis put on at the clinic. After
he explained how Greta had been injured, Jim readily agreed. The upshot was that Greta now had a
prosthesis attached to what was left of her paw. When she walked on concrete, or any other
hard surface, it didn’t feel all that good to her. Also, she clunked, a sound she didn’t much
care for either. Thus, as much as he
liked bare, hardwood flooring, every inch of Bob’s home was carpeted—including
the kitchen.
After cutting
across his lawn to reach the front porch—which was not carpeted—Greta clunked
about two steps before she stopped, barked, and backed away from the door. Clyde knew exactly what the problem must
be. He went with Greta as they returned
to the lawn. There he quickly called
Merrill. “Hi, boss—got a problem. As you know, Greta was trained to sniff out
explosives. When we got home from
walking over from Dick’s place, she stopped, barked, and started heading away from
my door. Could you send a bomb-squad
over, please? My gear is on the plane—plus
which, as tired as I am, I might blow myself up if she’s right.”
“Hell yes. Get away from your door right now.”
“Duh. We got away before I called you. We’re moving still further away as we speak.”
“Good. I’ll get a bomb squad on the way, then I’m on
my way, too. Now that I think of it, are
you armed?”
“Yeah, pistol
only—but it should be enough if someone comes at me.”
“Call Mitch and
Dick anyhow. Get them over there to give
you cover, until I get there with the posse.”
“What posse?”
“The damned
posse I’m bringing with me. So long.”
Clyde was
chuckling as he put away his phone.
Having no intention of calling either Mitch or Dick—knowing they could
use the sleep—he sat on the ground with the end of Greta’s leash under his
buttocks. He really needn’t bother
worrying about her going anywhere because ever since he had stopped moving away
from his home to make his phone call, she had sat down, staring at the front
door.
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