The K9 Senior Companion Program

“Hey Dad.” Laurie’s voice was warm and tired. “How was the doctor’s office?”

“Fine,” Joe lied. “Nothing to report. How’re you doing? Tell me about the kids.”

He could hear the relief in Laurie’s voice as she started to tell him about Andi and Emma’s latest school projects, Andi’s gymnastics meet and Emma’s upcoming play.

“Wish I could come see it,” he said, wishing he could haul the words back down his throat as soon as he said them.

“Yeah, I wish you could, too,” Laurie said out of habit. “Soon, right?”

“Yeah,” Joe said. It was what they needed to say. “Emma got a good costume for this one?”

Laurie laughed. “Yeah. Ask me how I pulled together an outfit that looks like it came from 1910, but it worked out great. I’ll send you a picture.” She paused, and then asked in a forced-cheerful curious voice, “How’s Josie?”

At the sound of her name, Josie got off the couch and padded toward Joe. He pointed to the talkbox, and she hopped up on a kitchen chair to make sure she was in range to be heard.

“Hi Laurie,” Josie said in that rough purring grumble that marked most dog voices. “We’re doing well. Are you bringing the kids soon? I could use a good run and a hundred rounds of fetch.”

Laurie laughed, even though Josie hadn’t been kidding. “Josie, I’m so glad you’re there,” she said, ignoring the question. “You keep a good eye on my dad, okay?”

Josie almost rolled her eyes. She settled for giving Joe’s hand a nudge with her nose, then slid her head under his palm. He started petting her reflexively.

“You know I will,” she said, hoping Laurie would hear the disappointment in her voice.

“Great! Love it. Talk to you soon, Dad.”

“Love you, sweetheart,” Joe said, fighting to keep a smile in his voice. “Give my love to the kids.”

“Will do,” Laurie promised. “Talk to you next week.” The talkbox beeped its goodbye.

Josie looked up at Joe. “You didn’t want to tell her?”

Joe shrugged. “What good is it? She’s too busy with the kids, and work. What’s she going to do, drop everything and come here because her old man needs a babysitter?”

Josie growled her displeasure. “There’s a difference between needing help after a surgery and full-time care,” she pointed out. “There’s a limit to what I can do here.”

Joe waved her off. “I’ll be fine.” He pushed his chair back from the table and got up, his limp getting more pronounced as he reached the kitchen.

Josie barked.

Joe startled and turned around faster than his hip wanted to let him. “What? What was that?”

“That,” Josie said, as primly as a dog could, “was me telling you to stop being such a hard-nosed idiot.”

Joe threw up his hands. “Something happens to me, you go to the talkbox, you call an ambulance. Okay? I promise, we can do this.”

Josie hopped down from the chair and trotted over to Joe. He automatically reached for her head and gave her ear a scratch. She leaned her head against his bad hip in the closest thing to a hug she could offer.

“We’ll make it just fine,” he said, his tone somewhere between a promise and a plea. “We’re going to be just fine, you and me.”

“Call her back,” Josie said. “She’ll come.”

Joe’s hand stilled, then trembled slightly before leaving Josie’s head entirely. She didn’t have to look up to know he was pinching his eyes shut.

“She won’t,” he said shakily. He took a deep breath and blew it out more steadily. “That’s why you’re here. Don’t act like you don’t know that.”

“Yeah,” Josie said. “I know.”

When Joe brought his hand back down, she gently caught his sleeve in her teeth and tugged him toward the easy chair. He followed her slowly, catching himself on doorways and leaning on the mantle as they crossed the living room. Once he was settled, Josie fetched the blanket from the couch and carefully brought his afternoon pills with a short-strapped canteen slipped over her neck.

Once she'd seen him take them, she hopped up into his lap, resting her head on the arm of the chair. Joe slowly stroked her back and drifted off into a nap.

They would be okay. They had to.