Friday had arrived in its anticipated glory. Friday the end of the week, the beginning of the end, two glorious days of not wearing camouflage, not listening to young Marines explain why they can't perform during training, not being the first one to greet their bleary eyes when they stumble out in the oh-dark-thirty morning for physical training. Hell, two days of not having to shave if I didn't wanna and two days where I didn't have to be the walking, living example of the modern proper Marine. A small slice of heaven and I was ready for it.
Being chief trainer, I'd stopped by my boss' office in the command post to fill him in on progress the current batch of Nods had made. I was heading back to my own humbler work space when I heard Lieutenant Kasarinski's voice from the open door I was passing.
"Hey, Gunny!"
As I wasn't the only Gunnery Sergeant in the battalion, it's conceivable that the lieutenant wasn't addressing me, but situation being what it was, I kinda figured it was a safe bet that was the case. Besides, even if it wasn't, this was an opportunity to talk to "The Kaz" as we called her. All five feet three inches, dark eyed, dark haired, somewhere in her mid-twenties, and suitably fit and curved bit of her.
I made a little Steve Martinesque production of backing up to stand in her hatch. Shifting gears, I used my Jack Webb monotone, "Yes, ma'am? You mean me, ma'am? Me, this gunny, ma'am? Not a different one, say Gunny Zimmerman, or Gunny Futrell?" All the while tapping my chest beside my name tag, the name she knew because, though she wasn't in my section, we were all on the same team. "Yes, ma'am, what can I do for you, ma'am?"
She was behind her austere grey functional government desk, leaning back in her chair, letting me go on while she tapped a black government pen against the arm of her chair. When I finally wound down, she said, "I was looking for a funny Gunny, but obviously I was mistaken." She waved her hand at me in a gesture of dismissal. "Carry on, Marine."
I sagged against the door jamb, hand over my heart, then staggered a step inside her office. "Damn, Lieutenant, that one hurt." She scrunched up her face in a fierce war-face and then relaxed into a smile. I straightened up and dropped the comedy. "Seriously, what can I do for you, Lieutenant?"
She had my attention besides the fact she had taken off her uniform jacket and was in her t-shirt in an effort to beat the desert heat. After all, she had her own batch of Marines working for her, including a gunny or two. If she had a project or other requirement, one of them should be where I was standing, not that I was anxious to give up my space. I was cautious in my admiration of the way cotton clung to the female shape.
"It's nothing official, so stop worrying about me shanghaiing you." She sat up a bit. "I hear you have a dog."
Wha
...? "Yeahhh..." I didn't try to hide my perplexity and that got me a laugh where Jack Webb got me a counter-jibe.
"Well, I've got a dog too and next week I'm taking off on leave. I was wondering if you would mind doing a little dog-sitting."
As my mind went
click
she kept talking. "I know it's an imposition, but I haven't been able to find anyone to take Bonny and I hate boarding her. I thought since you're a dog owner, you might understand."
Sure, I understood. No dog owner likes to give over that boon companion to strangers, to be kept in a cage and left without a friend face or voice. However, in a way, I wasn't the one that had approval rights.
"You're lucky you caught me, Lieutenant. My boss just told me to get an early start on the weekend. No problem, I can take Bonny." I was hoping I wasn't accepting custody of an Irish Wolfhound or a close cousin. "but here's the problem, ma'am, and I think you know this - my dog and your dog have to get along."
She nodded, "Yeah, I thought of that, too."
I leaned over her desk, took the pen she had been holding and scrawled on a pad. "This is my address and the cross streets. I'll stick around at home, why don't you bring Bonny over when you get off and we'll see if she and Obie get along."
"Obie?"
I drew myself into an impressive height and looked at her with an imperious face. "Obie-Wan Justeenuf." I tweaked an eyebrow. "'The force is strong with this one.'" I relaxed and added, "If they don't, you have the whole weekend to make other arrangements."
"Sounds like a plan, Gunny."
"Ahhh, best laid plans..." I said, slipping the pen into my pocket.
She glanced at what I'd written. "Jesus, your handwriting sucks." She frowned at my scratchings. "Is this...? Oh, okay, I know where you are."
"Great. If I don't see you and Bonny by seven, I'll assume you changed your mind, ma'am."
"See you later, Guns."
With that, I resumed course back to my desk where I tied off some loose ends and passed the word from the boss to my Marines to knock off early. They lost no time taking up his offer. If I had said goodbye a second time I would have been talking to myself.
A little while later I was back at my place completing the home from work ritual with Obie, his part of which was made of a quick wrestling bout followed by his earning a piece of beef jerky by striking the right pose - up on hind legs with forelegs up and adjacent. Ahhhh, the sense of empowerment!
I told him we might have company and, on reflection, thought it might be a good idea to work off some of his energy he'd accumulated while I was gone. I tossed my jacket onto the couch, spawning a quick memory of The Kaz in her t-shirt, and took Obie into the front yard for some play. Yard play was different than floor play. On the floor we'd rough house but outside we'd chase and dodge each other. Obie was a long-haired mutt and I loved seeing his coat stream when he was at a full run.
There we were, me clumping up and down my corner lot in my combat boots, chasing or being chased by the last Jed-dog, getting sweaty and breathing hard, when a pale blue Audi pulled up to the curb. The familiar face behind the wheel caused me to check my watch. An hour had flown by and I was caught flat-footed, not quite ready for guests.
The Kaz popped out and waved at me. Normally Marines are near fanatics about uniforms and courtesies, but I wasn't wearing a cover so couldn't salute and for some reason neither was she, so it's not like she could have returned it. I called Obie over from where he'd been staring at the stranger, took a knee and hooked a finger under his collar. I could see The Kaz had opened the rear passenger door which I took to mean she was hooking her dog onto a leash.
Sure enough, the two of them came into view when they rounded the back of the Audi and I had to quickly grab some Jack Webb. Bonny was a gorgeous example of German Shepherd, all black and tan, high tail and perked up ears. She quickly focused on Obie who had already put some strain on my restraining finger. I could see The Kaz was concentrating on her dog's reaction which suited me just fine because I was even less prepared for The Kaz than I had thought. She must have hustled through her end of day routine right after I left, gone home and scooped up her dog. She was still wearing the t-shirt, but it was wet from her workout sweat and her camouflage trousers had vanished in favor of the usual snug Marine nylon running shorts. If I had any suspicions that the baggy uniform combat uniform was hiding imperfections, they were instantly dispelled.
"Evening, ma'am," I said when they got a little closer. It was the greeting that would have accompanied the salute had I given one.
"Good evening, Gunny," she replied, equally formulaic. After that we went to the cautious business of introducing Bonny to Obie. I was worried that Obie would feel threatened by Bonny's size. Kaz muttered something about Bonny still being a pup and full of enthusiasm. The signs of hostility or defensiveness failed to materialize and we relaxed a little as the dogs sniffed and whined. So far, so good.
"Lieutenant, my back yard is fenced, why don't we take them back there, take 'em off the leash and see what happens?"
