Sam watched his commandos meet their human visitors—just as varied and imperfect and splendidly flawed as the dogs were—and he knew that here, love would have a better chance to find its way, as it usually does with dogs.
Sam noticed something else. A pickup truck had stopped and a young man had gotten out. The truck was new . . . and the nice clothes were not familiar . . . but the man was.
Sam dropped to Heidy’s shoulders, then to the ground. He loped down the hill on his three legs until he got close enough to the visitor to know that the man’s hands were probably a bit less rough now. He approached, and the man knelt down low to do what Sam had never allowed him to do before: gently stroke the top of his head.
“So, little buddy. It’s Sam the Lion now, is it?” the man said.
“Always was,” said Sam, and he closed his eyes.
Flawed Dogs Page 11
