Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 2

his face buried in a faded lap blanket.
    "Leave me alone. I like it here. It smells like Papa."
    "Ahh… there you are." He quickly clipped the lead onto his collar and slapped his thigh. "C'mon boy. Off we go. Time to see Dr. Wyman again." Burtie ignored him and pushed his face deeper into the blanket. Continued cajoling had no effect on the stubborn dog, so Jackson simply lifted him and carried him out. Burtie farted. "Oh God. That's just awful," gagged Jackson as he ran while pointing the dog's rear end away from him. He shot out the front door and set the dog down, breathing deeply of the fresh air. When his stomach settled, Jackson secured Burtie in the backseat with the doggie seatbelt and opened all the windows in the car before he drove off to the veterinarian's office.
    "Good morning, Jackson. You can take Burtie straight back. Dr. Wyman will be with you soon," said the receptionist as she hurriedly led them past a full waiting room to the furthest exam room and propped open the back door.
    "That's one good thing about your gas, at least," Jackson informed the dog as they settled in. "They want us outta here fast!"
    "Good morning… Wharburton? How are we today?" asked a tall middle-aged man as he stepped into the room. "I'm Dr. Wyman," he greeted them as he shook hands with Jackson.
    "Call me Burt."
    He studied the chart and then lifted Burtie up onto the exam table while Jackson surreptitiously ogled the man. He had short-cropped, silvering dark hair and tanned, chiseled features. Jackson fought back the instant attraction that bubbled up. He did not want a repeat of previous embarrassments. He had learned the hard way it was best to discover a man's sexuality before he started crushing. Dr. Wyman's white coat stretched over broad shoulders with sleeves that stopped over strong tanned hands. His fingers had clean, well-trimmed nails and a sprinkling of dark hair. Jackson bit back a whimper as he imagined those fingers brushing his own bare skin. He wore the white coat over a light blue shirt, dark slacks and comfortable shoes.
    "Why Dr. Wyman… how you've changed. We were in here only last week," Jackson quipped tentatively.
    "I just joined the practice… keeping it in the family. I'm Jet Wyman," he offered as he proceeded to examine Burtie.
    Jackson dejectedly assumed he was Dr. Jessa Wyman's husband. Jackson watched those wonderful hands gently and efficiently check the dog's eyes, ears, and teeth. Then he felt the dog's abdomen, pressing gently. Burtie farted.
    "Oh my God…" choked Dr. Wyman. "His chart says 'toxic flatulence', but I thought she was joking." He waved the chart, trying to disperse the malodorous cloud. "This stuff can be weaponized," he declared as his blue eyes watered. He stepped out and opened the back door fully, trying to get some extra ventilation for the room. Jackson's own black eyes had teared up from the noxious fumes as well, again reminding him of why his bitch-in-law had refused to allow his brother to take care of Burtie after their father died. She had urged euthanasia, even though the purebred bulldog was quite valuable for stud service. His late father had enjoyed taking Burtie around to the various dog shows, in the process earning multiple best-in-breed and several best-in-show ribbons that resulted in ever-increasing stud fees.
    "Let's talk outside," said Dr. Wyman as he grabbed the chart and held the door open for Jackson who led Burtie out to a picnic table behind the building. "I see from the chart that Jessa has performed a full blood panel and everything appears normal. I'll have a lab tech check his stool for blood again. Digested blood from a GI bleed can produce foul-smelling gas. Once that's ruled out, we'll have to focus on diet. What does he eat?"
    "Dog Chow, same as always," replied Jackson.
    "A dead bird dropped by the cat I chased."
    "Sometimes a few bits of chicken or steak," added Jackson.
    "Some cat crunchies from the litter box your neighbor dumped over the fence."
    "I add a few steamed vegetables from my own plate if he's interested," continued Jackson.
    "A full tub of hummus with roasted garlic last night. He still doesn't know I can pull open the refrigerator door." Burtie slurped his tongue around his lips.
    "And that's it. Nothing exotic. I don't see why his food would be an issue."
    "I'd like to rule it out. Please put him on a diet of boiled rice with a small amount of cooked lean chicken. Nothing else!" Dr. Wyman warned pleasantly.
    "It's