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Service Dog copyright 2014 comidacomida

I'm not what you would call a stranger when it comes to Dogs-- the four-legged or the two-legged variety. Yes, I know there are still plenty of places where people have only ever seen Dogs on television but, chances are if you live in a big city you probably have a few Dog friends. Back in the 90s when I was in high school Dogs usually kept to Dogs and Humans usually kept to Humans but as the 2000s came and went a lot of that separation started to disappear.

By the time the internet came onto the scene in a big way a sub-culture known to few was suddenly thrust into the spotlight... I'm talking about Burb Dogs and Leashers. These days, even if the Burb Dog thing isn't mainstream it's still a pretty well-known lifestyle for a lot of the Dogs who practice it and the Human Leashers are as normal a thing as turning on your TV and listening to a talk show host out of New York discuss how to best maintain an in depth Human/Dog relationship.

Sure, the hyper right-wing religious conservatives still wage wars against that kind of thing but, for the most part, it's almost accepted by the public... about as much as homosexual marriage or gender realignment surgery, anyway. I was a Leasher before it was the 'in' thing though... before it became the most recent Hollywood dirty little tré chic secret. Not long ago a star 'came out' as bisexual or chose some out-of-the-ordinary religion, weight-loss plan, or crazy business venture but now it seems like every week some Human stars find a Dog and Dog stars find a Human and it magically gets leaked to the press.

Call me cynical, but in my forty two years on this planet I've rarely seen a time when any publicity is 100% accidental. Then again, I have to wonder just how "real" those Burb Dog relationships are. That one handsome actor-- what's his name from NCIS: Phoenix... he's apparently dating his costar-- the pretty little brown furred German Shepherd that plays his 'token female officer' partner.

Of course, the writers don't ever work any sexual tension into the plot because that's still a little too cutting-edge for television but all of the media's guessing and assumptions do plenty for the show's ratings, don't they? I'm not really interested in ranting so I'll get to the point: unless you're actually a Burb Dog who's had a Leasher or a Leasher who's had a Burb Dog it really isn't something you can understand... but the best way I can do that is to give you a first hand account. That account, of course, involves my own Burb Dog, Sam.

Dogs are common place enough in Seattle, but an all-white Black Labrador couldn't really be considered an every-day occurrence no matter where you are. I met him at my insurance agent's office seated in the desk closest to the door. I spent a moment trying to figure out what breed of Dog was pure white-- at that time I hadn't figured out he was an albino. The Dog looked up from the papers on his desk and paused, his pale blue eyes locking onto mine as an easy smile spread across his muzzle. I didn't miss the way his bright pink nose subtly worked the air.

I'm not one for getting caught off guard, so I got straight to the point, "Hi. I'm here to see Jon Carmine."

He then surprised me further with the fact that he knew my name. "Hello, Mr. DeWalt. Jon is out of the office right now... was there something you needed?"

The Dog's inquiry was enough to knock me right out of my official tone, "Have we met before?"

The Lab chuckled pleasantly, "No, Mr. DeWalt... but Jon's had me organizing his client files and I recognized you from yours."

I spoke without even thinking despite knowing the answer, "I thought he doesn't keep pictures of people in those files."

His chuckle turned into an outright laugh, but he paused, ears reddening visibly as he withdrew, apparently embarrassed about the sound he'd just made, "I'm sorry... yes, I mean, no, sir... he doesn't keep photos, but I--"

I interrupted him when my brain finally caught up to the situation; I'd seen him catch my scent. "You recognized my smell from my insurance file?"

The Dog spun around in his swiveling chair and opened a file cabinet. In a handful of seconds he rotated back to me and placed a folder down on the desk. Opening it, the Labrador pulled out a pen and offered it to me. "Jon has a note in your file that you left this last time you were here. This is how I recognized you."

While I didn't figure any insurance agent, no matter how good would take much interest in an abandoned writing instrument, it happened that the fountain point pen I'd left at his office was one of my favorites-- a drafting pen I'd had since graduating college. I accepted it from the Dog without hesitation, "That's quite a nose you have there... even for a Dog, Mister...?"

The Labrador stood up, tightened his necktie, and then extended a paw, "Snow and Molasses, Mr. DeWalt."

The young Dog was a likable sort, pleasant and outgoing but lacking that cloyingly sweet obsessiveness-to-be-liked some people had; he was certainly a lot better than the lady Jon had working for him the previous time I'd stopped by. Regardless, Snow-and-Molasses was taking a stand-offish approach by introducing himself formally-- no Dogs went by their given name all the time, especially not around Humans.

I used a little tact in working through his wrongly-placed professionalism, "No more Mr. DeWalt please... just call me Alan."

Although he was facing me directly it was still possible to see the tip of his tail on either side of his body as it wagged back and forth behind him, "Okay... Alan."

With that out of the way, I pushed forward in the conversation as I took a seat at his desk and offered an easygoing smile, "This is where you tell me what I should call you."

He took seat as well, the pale insides of his ears reddening even more, "Uh... Sam. My Common Name is Sam."

Anyone who's worked with a Dog, gone to school with a Dog, or spent any time around tax season with a Dog knows that they have two names: a Green Name, also known as their given name (which tends to be long and descriptive), and a Common Name, which is made to fit into a more Human-like style. In Sam's case, his Common Name was just the initials of his Green Name put together: S-A-M.

I took note of that right away. "Snow-and-Molasses... Sam. Makes sense to me."

The comment brought another bout of tail wagging, audible as the appendage struck the back of the chair in rhythmic fashion. "So... what brings you in today, Mr-- er... Alan?"

Although we were on much more casual terms the reintroduction of business into the conversation wiped away my smile as I thought back to my reason for the visit. Letting out a sigh, I pulled my insurance card and the copy of a police report out of my wallet, "My car got hit outside my office and I need to file a claim..."

Sam's ears went up, "Oh no... everyone's alright, I hope?"

I shrugged, "No idea. I wasn't in the car when it happened and whoever's responsible didn't bother stopping."

The Dog's fingers flew over the keyboard as he began typing faster than I could keep track, "Well, the good news is that I can help take care of things and get the claim started while Jon's gone. Since you have comprehensive coverage the insurance company will be able to cover the worst of it."

I raised an eyebrow, "That easy?"

He grinned pleasantly, "That easy. I promise."

His smile was contagious, "You 'promise', huh?"

Sam didn't reply, looking away instead with another flash of red to his ears; I'd known several Dogs in my life... some shy and some not so much, but there was something about the Lab that almost made me blush too. I gathered up my things and he put the file away, reassuring me that there wouldn't be any hiccups.

Normally I would have been surprised that things went as smooth as they did but I took Sam's promise at face value, and he delivered on it. A week and a half later my car came out of the shop and I was only set back two hundred bucks. After that, other than the occasional nagging thought about the albino Labrador and his easy-going smile he was practically forgotten.

Another month passed before I went back into the insurance office, but, suddenly, Sam was right back in my life, so to speak.

Something about my timing and my agent's schedule means I almost never meet up with him in the office, and that visit was no different. Walking in mid-morning I saw that the desk in front of the door was empty, and that's when thoughts about Sam returned full force. The pondering came to a halt when I heard the Dog's voice call from the back room, "Hi, Alan! Please make yourself comfortable-- I'll be right out!"

Among the four-legged variety of dogs, Labradors are known to be in the top ten of keen noses. Plenty of people make the assumption that Dogs and dogs share a lot of the same breed attributes and, for the most part, they're right, but most Dogs are closer to the Human sensory range than they are the dog range. Yes, their sense of smell is more acute, as is their hearing, but nowhere near the same level as canis familiaris.

This also means that yes, most Dogs see colors just fine and no, they do not usually sniff one another's posteriors in greeting. However, every now and again, just as with certain traits in Humans, one Dog out of a thousand has a genetic throwback. Whether this is limitation on differentiating between colors or, in Sam's case, an incredibly refined sense of smell, they are the exception and not the rule. As it turned out, however, Sam was quite the exception when it came to his nose.

I was sitting at Sam's desk less than a minute before he came out of the back room carrying a large stack of folders. Now, I may not be the most fashion conscientious individual in the world but I noticed right away that his red tie did not match well with his blue shirt. From there, it was a short jump to trigger my memory; it was the same tie he'd worn the last time I'd come in and I remembered because it contrasted his white fur and the white shirt he'd worn on that day. Regardless, I didn't say anything.

The Labrador opened up a drawer in his desk and pulled out a breakfast bar and slid it over, "You know, Alan, they say that breakfast is the most important meal of the day... do you usually skip yours?"

In general a declaration of that kind would have thrown me off but I took it in stride, ready to make the assumption I figured was accurate, "How exactly could you smell that I didn't have anything to eat?"

He wagged in response, "I could smell two applications of toothpaste on your breath since last night's dinner..."

I sat back in my chair, folding my arms across my chest incredulously, "Last night's dinner, huh?"

Sam's nose worked the air lightly, "Stuffed scallops, I think?"

The expression on his muzzle, half-way between confident and indecisive was more than I could bear and I let out a hearty guffaw, leaning forward again. Thankfully, rather than be put off by the act, he mirrored my own smile and I nodded, "Really nice eatery down near Pike's Place... it's an older joint but they have the best seafood."

The Labrador's tail beat out a steady rhythm on the back of his chair and he slid me the breakfast bar, "I don't eat out much, but I'll check into it sometime... but I'm willing to bet you didn't come in today to talk about restaurants so... how may I be of service today, Alan?"

The Dog's easy-going nature and the strange deviation of our conversation was quickly set back on track by his return to the purpose of my visit. Shrugging, I pulled a credit card out of my wallet, "My bank just upgraded my card but they changed the number."

He looked down at the card and motioned to it for permission. Once I nodded he picked it up and quickly punched some information into the computer with one paw, "So... we're updating your automatic payment?"

Once I nodded he got straight to work. To fill the silence between I glanced down at the breakfast bar, "That has peanuts in it, doesn't it?"

He raised his ears, looking first to me then to the breakfast bar, "Hmm? I think so, yea... you don't like peanuts?"

I shrugged, "I'm allergic."

Sam set down my credit card and took the breakfast bar back, "Oh! I'm sorry, Alan... I suppose I should have--"

Raising a hand I dismissed his concern, "It's alright, Sam... one day of skipped breakfast isn't going to--"

His paw came back out of the drawer with a granola bar, tail continuing its rhythmic percussion on the back of his chair. "There we go... completely peanut free."

I looked down at the offered 'meal' and picked it up. He continued typing, a pleased expression on his muzzle while I inspected the ingredients; sure enough: no peanuts. Glancing back at the Dog I sighed, "Except it has raisins... I'm allergic to those too."

The aghast expression that filled his features made me feel horrible immediately about the joke but he recovered quickly when he saw me smirking. I saw the tentative indecision in his eye as he offered up a hint of wit in response, "I can't think of any other time when I met a man in a seven hundred dollar suit with a sense of humor."

That comment was enough to make me pause; not just because it almost sounded like a flirtatious line, but because he apparently knew something about clothes. "So not only do you have a good nose, but you know your suits."

He nodded, turning from the computer to address me, "Giorgio Armani. It's a pretty obvious brand."

I shrugged, adjusting my tie when I saw him do the same to his, "I can't think of many people, Dog or Human that could pick out brands so easily unless they had some kind of background, or wore it themselves."

Sam smiled, "I grew up around clothes-- my dad was a haberdasher... Dog and Human styles."

"Ah... so Ellis to Armani-- Warren to Mein Hund."

It was his turn to be surprised, "You know Dog accessory brands?"

I saw, in fact, that he was so surprised that his tail had stopped wagging. The moment I nodded in response it started right up again, "I work with a lot of people in my business... it pays to be in-the-know."

He slid me my card back, "Well, Allen... I have your automatic payment updated. What else can I help you with today?"

The Dog's ability to switch between casual and business-friendly was admirable, and it took me a moment to catch up. "That's it, thanks."

Rather than dismiss me or stand up to leave, Sam just continued sitting there, paws crossed on the desk in front of him, fingers laced together as he remained looking at me attentively. "Well, it was my pleasure, Alan. Thank you for stopping in."

I remained where I was for another few seconds, trying to figure out whether I wanted to say something else or if I was thinking to say something because I thought he wanted me to. In the end, I stood up, offered a simple flick of the wrist in a dismissing wave, and showed myself out. At the time, I couldn't put my finger on why I felt like I was missing something... or maybe I didn't miss it but just chose not to see it.

Another month passed before I saw Sam again, but, for whatever reason, our short visit remained in my mind the entire time. It was May I recall, because I'd just leased one of the newest model year cars and was bringing it to the agency for an insurance review. Usually small, time intensive chores like that were great fuel for a bad day yet I remember being much more upbeat about my visit.

As I walked through the doors I looked around for Sam and, when I didn't see him, I waited to hear him call from the back room. The voice that called, however, wasn't the Dog. "Hey! I'll be there in a minute!"

Joe, my insurance agent, eventually came into view, "Oh! Hey Alan! Good to see you again!"

Despite his friendly greeting I didn't feel very welcome. I suppose a little of that came out in my tone. "Hi Joe... I'd gotten so used to seeing Sam I figured he'd taken over as my agent."

He took the words in the best way possible, which was good since he'd been my agent for over a decade. After a hearty laugh, Joe sat down in his chair, "Nah... I just needed some help for a few weeks while I cut my in-office hours... family stuff."

Rather than address the reason for my visit, I pressed the issue, "So... he was a temp?"

Joe nodded, "Indeed... recently moved into town and he needed a part time job while he was going to school. Nice enough pup... didn't get a single complaint while he was here... not like when I had Trish."

The rest of our talk about his ex-secretary, my insurance, and life in general may as well have been lost to the sands of time; my brain just wasn't really in it. I know we talked about my new car and he got all the information he needed to make sure everything was covered, and then I was out of his office and on my way back to work. I had an hour for lunch but, for some reason, I really didn't feel like taking any down-time. My mood, however, did not remain soured for long.

I was about two blocks from my office when I saw an unmistakably white furred Dog making his way down the street on the sidewalk; he was wearing a backpack over a casual t shirt and a simple brown belt holding up a pair of cargo shorts... and I swore I saw the loop of a red tie around his neck. As with a lot of Dogs in Seattle during the early spring, he had a pair of hiking boots on his feet.

While I was doubtful at first that it was Sam as I slowed the car he looked my way and the recognition in his pale blue eyes caught me when our gazes locked. I hadn't felt that little flutter in my chest in years but I had no doubt what it meant. He took a step away from the curb as I pulled over. Sam's tail wagged readily as he raised an arm in greeting, "Hi, Alan. When did you get a new car?"

"Yesterday. I brought it into the office just to make sure that I could get it covered under my policy."

The Lab's tail continued wagging as he walked up and leaned in to get a better look. "I'd think so, as long as you have it under personal property and not in a business name or a trust."

The casual way in which his explanation just rolled out caught me by surprise; it had taken Joe nearly twenty minutes to get to the point and here this 20-something Dog just out-and-out said it. I reached over and opened the door. "How exactly do you know so much about insurance, Sam? You weren't working at Joe's THAT long, were you?"

I didn't know if Sam was going to accept the invitation... or even if I was really extending one, but all that uncertainty faded away when he took off his backpack and sat down, closing the door once he did. "No... my mom had an insurance company back home... it was a family thing so I got my insurance license at eighteen and helped out at the office after school and on weekends."

To say I was surprised would have been an understatement, "So you helped out your dad at his shop and helped out your mom at her office?"

He nodded casually, his backpack in his lap as he glanced at me, a hint of embarrassment evident in the way his eyes didn't meet mine, "Well... yea... and when I came to Washington I was able to get a license because I had one in Utah, so Joe hired me for a few months."

I watched him as he talked, observing the way he squinted against the sun and continued to avoid my gaze. Reaching up, I lowered the visor to shade him from the light and I heard his tail beating against the seat in response. I rolled the car forward a few inches to better situate it in a parking spot. "So what are you up to now?"

He shrugged, "School mostly."

I watched him for a few seconds, looking at him out of the corner of my eye. His tail continued to beat softly against the seat, much more subdued and he reached up to adjust his tie-- the same one I'd seen him in both times previous; it was highly out of place since he was wearing a t-shirt. "New job yet?"

Sam shook his head, "No. Right now it's a pretty hard term so I think I'm better off without one."

Something about the way the words came out of him made me doubt his honesty, but I decided to play along. "Ah... so your folks are helping you out?"

It turned out to be a less than ideal topic of conversation. His eyes finally turned toward me and I saw a mixture of hesitation and pain, but it was quickly flushed away as he managed an air of casual indifference, "Nah... uh..." he cleared his throat, "...we really don't talk much since I moved out."

I went out on a limb, "They don't approve of you being a Burb Dog?"

The comment caused his ears to raise and he finally looked right at me, "I...uh-- wait... what?"

His air of surprise was priceless and I would have been happy enough to bask in the cute expression for as long as he wore it, but I realize that he was genuinely alarmed by my assessment. "Relax... you're not the first Burb Dog I've met."

Despite my reassurance I saw immediately that I'd left him uncomfortable, which hadn't been my intent. He slowly folded his arms around his chest but, I noticed, he didn't get out of the car. He lowered his head slightly and, like a little puppy admitting to having stolen biscuits from the treat jar, he spoke up in a quiet, plaintive voice, "How did you know?"

I smiled, "Like I said... you're not the first Burb Dog I've met... and the neck tie was a dead give away-- a tie is the oldest trick in the book for a Burb Dog that doesn't want to wear a collar in public."

He glanced my direction for a split second before returning his gaze straight ahead, "How do you know so much about Burb Dogs?"

I waited until he looked at me to respond, and his tail picked up speed when he saw my smile, "I've been the Leasher to a few over the years."

It was the first step to really breaking the ice with Snow and Molasses. Although we were both sitting in a car we remained parked for a half hour talking about things completely unrelated to insurance. He asked about my prior time with Burb Dogs and I told him that I'd had four... most for a year or two and one for just shy of five. When I asked him about being a Burb Dog, however, his grew quiet again.

As it turned out, Sam's parents did not approve of his lifestyle choice. Although being a Burb Dog doesn't always mean that a Dog has a sexual attraction to Humans, it is a well known fact that a Burb Dog/Leasher relationship can get in the way of finding romance in one's life. What really got me thinking was when he said for him it got in the way of his marriage.

After that big reveal he summarized the problem with a simple comment. "And... well... my parents really didn't appreciate me turning the whole thing down."

I glanced his way, "Did you just say 'turning the whole thing down.'? I would think you wouldn't have proposed if you didn't want to marry her."

He shrugged, digging around in his backpack. I'd seen the action before: a way to avoid direct interaction during an uncomfortable topic, "Oh... because I didn't. It was arranged."

Despite everything I'd heard from the young Dog that was more than enough to make me pause. "Arranged? I didn't think Dogs did that anymore."

He pulled a notepad out of his backpack, focusing more on it than me. "It wasn't as much a 'Dog thing'... it was a family tradition."

"So when you told them you wanted to live as a Burb Dog they thought it would get in the way of the marriage?"

The words that came out were so mumbled it took me a second to understand him, "Yea... pretty much."

It was obvious he didn't want to continue the discussion by the way he sat slumped down in the seat holding onto his book bag like a drowning man would clutch a flotation device. At that point he looked uncomfortable enough so I tried my best to smooth things over, "I was just about to get something to eat... You had lunch yet?"

"No."

"Want to go grab something?"

The transformation in him was immediate; he sat up straighter and the backpack fell to the floor of the car. His tail beat in accompaniment to his words, "You mean... like... together? With you?"

I laughed aloud at the sudden animation, "Well... you're already in my car and I haven't eaten yet either so yes, that was the general idea."

The smiley expression with tongue hanging out the side of his muzzle was enough of an answer even before his very enthusiastic, "Yea!"

My schedule has always been flexible enough that my day was pretty much mine to block out so taking an extra hour for my lunch break wasn't such big a deal. Five blocks and a phone call to my office later we were situated in a restaurant I'd passed by often enough but never been into. Thai has always been a favorite of mine, except for the fact that I had to be particularly careful because peanuts were found in so many dishes. For Sam, on the other hand, it was a first. "Sooooo.... uh... what's good?"

It was an honest enough question, but the cute nature of his perked ears and attentive gaze brought a smile to my face regardless. "Well, if you want to start with something simple I'd say the Chicken Sa-te to start. I really like spring rolls, but they usually serve both with peanut sauce so I have to be careful."

Sam nodded critically, ears focused solely on me as if he gave my words the weight of a divine decree. "So... lots of appetizers?"

The question made me laugh, "To start, yes. That's the whole point of appetizers."

He cocked his head to the side, his tie flopping against the table as he looked at me quizzically; his tail beat a happy tempo on the booth, "Well... uh... why not just make a full meal out of starter plates? ...or is that crazy?"

It wasn't the first time I'd heard such a suggestion... especially with menus the size some restaurants had. "Sounds like a plan to me and no, it's not crazy. Get whatever you like... my treat." Sam's ears went up even more, "Are you sure?"

I nodded, "Why not? This is my first time here so I need a chance to explore too. Anything we don't finish you can take home since I have to get back to the hospital after lunch."

His eyes went back to the menu and his wagging picked up its pace, "Okay... so... let's get the chicken and the spring rolls and I'll take all the peanut sauce?"

When you've paid for enough lunches you learn that there are different ordering styles for people getting a free meal. In Sam's case he was my favorite kind: the courteous free-rider. I watched the gears turning in his head as he looked at the items and trying to figure out how much was too much. In the end I made it easy for him, "How about one more?"

Sam looked up from the menu, ears swiveling forward, then back, then forward again. He smiled, tail starting up again against the booth as he glanced to the list, "Well... what about this here? Pad Thai Taster? It says portions of chicken, shrimp, and pork... that' sounds good, right?"

I tried to keep my smile reserved, "Did you see the description of Pad Thai?"

His eyes migrated back up to look at me before returning to the menu. Flipping a few pages he paused, "Noodles in a sweet and savory... oh."

His ears drooped and I finished reading for him, "Sweet and savory peanut sauce."

The Dog sighed, "It's like everything on the menu has peanuts in it."

Leaning forward, I placed an elbow on the table and propped my chin up on my palm, "I haven't figured out if I'm a masochist for coming here or a sadist for bringing you with."

Sam leveled his pale blue eyes at me... then, out of the blue, he burst up laughing. It was contagious, and I joined him a moment later. When the server finally arrived he ordered the chicken sa-tay, the spring rolls, and the Korean barbecued pork then glanced to me to see if I approved; my smile started his tail going all over again. With a nod from me he let out the faintest happy-yip and he immediately sank down in the booth, ears reddening brightly. I thanked the server and she went back to the kitchen without another word.

We chatted for a few minutes about food in general-- at home his family mostly ate at home and when they went out it was always to dinners and hometown restaurants; apparently 'exotic cuisine' to him was Mexican. I explained how much of a melting pot of cultures Seattle was and that he'd need to explore a little. Despite how outgoing he came across most of the time, he ended up strangely reserved in the conversation, doing more listening than speaking, but his smile never faltered. Food finally came, however, and that was when he spoke up.

I was just about to bite into a spring roll when he jolted up in his seat, "Alan, don't!'

Frozen in place I looked across the table at the Dog, who was half standing, half leaning over the table. His paw was outstretched and his fur was standing on end. His alarmed expression left me confused but I didn't say anything until he batted the food out of my hand. "Something wrong?"

"They fried that in peanut oil!"

There are a lot of people far more allergic to peanuts than I am, thank god... but my allergies are bad enough. We left fast enough after that; I obviously let Sam take all of the leftovers. Since I still hadn't had lunch we followed up with quick trip around the corner to SBB, a local burger joint. The place was actually named with the owner's initials but everyone called it Seattle's Best Burgers. To be honest, there are a lot better places to grab a hamburger but what I like about SBB is that they serve soft drinks in the right kind of cups.

For anyone who doesn't eat out often with Dogs I guess the cup type doesn't matter that much, but, then again, I was with a Dog. See... most casual dining places go for the cheap, 80s style paper cups with plastic lids and straws. The more progressive places switched over to plastic cups in the 90s... the ones you see out there for Dogs that have the narrow snap-on lids that make it easier for Dogs to drink. I can tell you based on personal experience with some dining partners that it's a lot easier for them to use than a straw, and I liked SBB as I said, because they had the right kind of cups.

All-in-all our second stop was all-around better than the first. Though Sam offered to pay for his own burger but I turned him down. In fact, as we enjoyed our time together even more I came to a realization, and I even put it into words. "That nose of yours really saved the day."

I saw his pale fleshed face redden beneath his platinum fur, "I just didn't want you to get sick by not saying anything."

Shrugging, I leaned forward, "Well, it's not a deadly allergy for me, but I'm not really interested in getting sick and you helped me avoid trouble."

His ears drooped as he turned even redder, "It's not a big deal, Alan..."

I smiled, "It is to me."

The Lab fidgeted, "Then... uh... you're welcome?"

Working in the field of corporate architecture means having to learn to get straight to the point, which I did, "I want you to work for me."

His head cocked enough that his lower ear would have hung straight down if not for the fact that it was pricked up in surprise and confusion, "Work... for you?"

I folded my hands together on the table, "You said you're between jobs because you want to focus on school. Work for me should be easy I can offer flexible hours so it doesn't get in the way of classes."

He wrung his paws together, fidgeting in his seat, "I... uh... don't know a lot about what you do, Alan."

Laughing, I shook my head, "Not at my office... I want you working for me personally. My healthcare plan at work can pay for an assistant in the event I have a disability."

His ears rose even more and he sat straight up, "You have a disability?"

I smiled in response, "For one, my bosses love me. Second, I'm indispensable so they can't afford me to take sick leave. Third, if you've ever had a food allergy you'd know how disabling they can be. So... put all those together and I'm sure I can make a good case for being able to hire a service dog."

"Except I'm not that kind of service dog... insurance companies only acknowledge trained four-legs for that position."

My smile didn't even falter since I already had a response ready for him, "Which is why you'll be a healthcare assistant in all ways except one."

His ears slowly lowered and he cocked his head to the side again, "Uh... all ways except one?"

Sam's tail began wagging the moment I winked... and picked up speed after I explained simply, "You're a Burb Dog and I'm a Leasher... how much do you need me to spell it out?"

When he froze in place, staring blankly at me I wasn't sure if I'd been too forward with the Labrador but that was all over a moment later when he numbly nodded, eyes going shyly to his backpack. "Uh... kay."

I reached out and took hold of one of his shaking paws to help calm him down and get his attention again. "Two hundred a week plus I'll cover rent."

His ears went up at that as he glanced once more to his backpack, "I... uh... pay 1200 a month for my--"

My laugh interrupted him, "No, Sam... I have a spare room-- you'll move into it and your rent is included in your pay."

I wasn't able to remember the last time I'd been hugged by a Dog, but I knew it had never felt that good. It was a definitive sign of his approval, even before his eager affirmation. "You got yourself a service Dog!"

Although I'd like to say that the arrangement went off without a hitch I'd be lying. Despite my confidence in everything working out with the insurance plan it actually ended up taking a subsidization by my company to make things happen; they covered Sam's wages and I took care of the room and board. Still, considering the fact that I'd found an amazing Labrador who was as close to anything I'd ever looked for in a Burb Dog, it was well worth the hassle... and then some!

Sam ended up taking his job seriously and, when it came down to it, he was very professional. When he wasn't at school he was by my side, and that meant I had company at every meal. We spent more and more time together beyond that too-- he became an honest-to-goodness roommate, which was far more than I'd had in a decade. As the next few months passed we grew closer and closer together and, eventually, we decided that we were far more Leasher and Burb Dog than we were employer and employee. It was on June 15th-- I'll never forget that date.

We'd spent the previous two weeks discussing Sam's necktie. Most Burb Dogs have a collar they wear; some wear it only at home and some wear it all the time. In Sam's case he only had his tie and he wore it with everything, all the time. He was still in that self-conscious phase where he just couldn't bring himself to walk into a store and get himself a collar. June 15th was the day when all that changed because I bought one for him.

I had an elaborate presentation ready for to go after dinner but I ended up having to improvise after he threw me for a loop. We had just been through the how-was-your-day discussion when he set down his fork and looked up at me. He remained quiet, ears raising then lowering in indecision until he took a deep breath, "Alan... I... um..."

Sam has always had trouble initiating a conversation, especially about uncomfortable topics and I could tell right away that what he had to say was going to be a problem for him... especially the way he was adjusting his tie. I looked across the table at him, "What's up, pup?"

His tail started wagging; it did every time I used that line. He cleared his throat and his throat stopped, "I... uh... don't think.. I mean... uh... what would you do if I said I didn't want to work for you anymore?"

Sam's comment caught me out of left field and, for once, I was the one who couldn't figure out the right thing to say. Everything had been going so well so hearing that he wasn't interested in keeping up the relationship really stunned me. When I did find a response it was pretty straight-forward. "What?"

The Dog's sudden expression of horror led me to the realization that he hadn't been expecting that response and, a split second later I realized that what he meant to say hadn't come across correctly. It helped when he explained in no vague terms, "That's not what I meant!"

I had his collar in its display box by my foot next to the leg of the table. "What didn't you mean exactly?"

He fidgeted, ears drooping as they reddened, "Well... I... uh... I really like being here."

"So... you're not quitting?"

Sam's ears went right back up, "No! I mean... no... I don't want to quit... I... I just... I mean..."

He fell into silence as he trailed off, blushing more than I'd ever seen him blush before, "Are you happy here?"

His response was, for once, very decisive, "Yea! Of course!"

"Then what's up?"

He cleared his throat once... then a second time... then ran his tongue around the entire side of his muzzle before he cleared his throat once more, "I... uh... I want to keep staying here and... uh... helping you..."

I smiled, partly because I'd hoped it would calm him down but also because his shifting expressions were far too cute; each and every one of them was a genuine glimpse into Sam. I encouraged him onward. "But?"

The Labrador cleared his throat once more, slinking down a little into his chair as he gazed up toward me as he lowered his muzzle, "It's just... you... I mean... I don't think you should have to... uh... pay me."

It was a second surprise tacked right onto the first. Although it took me a moment to respond I was fairly certain of the answer to the question I posed. "So... you want to stay here and keep helping me out... for free?"

He squirmed slightly, ears lowering sheepishly and his answer came out just as much a question as a response, "Well.. uh... yes?"

The request made me smile all the more and I couldn't help but have just a little fun with the request, "I don't have to start charging you rent, do I?"

The confusion on his face led me to believe that he wasn't all that sure how to take my joke so that's when I took the opportunity to "accidentally" drop my fork. I leaned down to collect it and the gift I had for him. He used the time well, apparently putting together what he wanted to say by the time I sat back up but the words froze in his muzzle the moment I set the box on the table, "I--"

After he'd fallen silent again I slid the black box to him. I saw his eyes go wide when he saw the MH logo on it. "Here. If you're going to be my Burb Dog then you're going to need this."

His slender, pale white paw gently caressed the side of the package, "Is... is this....?"

I smiled, slowly standing up, "Open it up and find out."

His eyes were glued to the box as he slowly began to undo the silver ribbon on it. I circled the table as he delicately pulled the bow away and reverently opened the box. The collar I'd chosen for him was a Mein Hund Original from their upper range of designs-- the Burb Dog equivalent to the kind of suits I like to wear at the office. Double-ply leather with a stitched border, it followed Sam's style of being reserved while still respectful... but I made sure I got one that had the company logo stitched prominently into it; he deserved to feel special.

With shaky paws, the Lab managed to free the collar from its display box and he turned it around every-which-way. "This... it's... I--"

I moved around behind his chair and rested my hands on his quivering shoulders, "So... you said you didn't want to be an employee... I think if you're going to be my Burb Dog the least I could do is make sure you're dressed for it."

He almost fumbled the collar twice; in his excited state he was having trouble making his fingers do what he wanted them to. I laughed at that, much to his chagrin, and removed the loop of leather from his still-stunned grasp; the buckle opened without issue for me. He sat up straighter the moment I had the collar around his neck and all of the fur on his body puffed out once it was fit it into position.

Sam raised his muzzle up high so he could look up and back at me. Opening his muzzle I thought he was going to say something but, instead, his tongue came out and licked me under the chin. It was probably the most outgoing, intimate act I'd ever seen from him and it honestly surprised me. It had also apparently surprised him quiet a bit because he stood up quickly, tail tucked as he wrung his paws together in front of himself, "That-- I... I mean--"

I laughed it off, moving forward to give the Dog a comforting hug, "I've has Burb Dogs before... remember? I don't mind."

The Labrador slumped into my embrace immediately, resting his chin on my shoulder as he let out a shaky breath. His next words made me laugh, "Sure beats a handshake."

"It sure does."

I wasn't sure exactly how long we remained like that but in the end I was the one who pulled back. Sam let out a soft sigh, looking me in the eyes as I held him at arm's length. It was my turn to surprise him; leaning forward, I touched my nose to his. Among Dogs that gesture is reserved for close friends and the fact that I knew about it was not lost to the Labrador; he let out an abbreviated yip of surprise and joy then, blushing, leaned forward once more to return the action by pressing his nose to mine. I, however, followed it up with a kiss.

Don't ask me what came over me to lock my lips against the soft velvety fur at the end of his muzzle; I have no idea what I was thinking at the moment other than being overwhelmed by the myriad of emotions that had been bubbling beneath the surface ever since I'd first met Sam. Yes, I'd had Burb Dogs before and there were several with whom I'd grown very close... but I'd never kissed one; I'd never had anything nearing romantic with a Dog. For some reason though, with Sam it felt right.

Oh, I'd known for a long time that I preferred men to women but I'd never considered taking a Dog as a lover; from the sudden tenseness from Sam it seemed like the exact same thing was true for him. As he pulled back, however, ears down and gaze looking away, the words that came out of him surprised me, "You... uh... you don't have to do this on... on my account, Alan."

At first I almost thought he was joking; wasn't I the one who just came on to him? He hadn't really been giving me any signals or, if he had, maybe I'd missed them? I cleared my throat and, as usual when around Sam, I found myself at a loss for words, "No... I mean... yes. I mean... isn't that my line?"

I don't know if he thought I was just being funny or whether he could hear the actual sincerity to my words but his tail un-tucked just a little and he looked back at me, still remaining an arm's length away, "I really do want to be your Burb Dog, Alan, and I'm okay with just being that. You don't have to... uh... you know."

I took a step closer, emboldened when I realized he was interested but unsure of how to proceed. Although it was unfamiliar territory to me too, I had a few more years of general life experience, and I also have a knack for solving problems. Reaching out a hand I entwined my fingers with his and, when he didn't resist, I pulled him a little closer, "I know I don't have to do anything... why wouldn't you think that I'd want to?"

He fidgeted, even as I pulled him in for a fresh embrace. His voice was just a little shaky-- the combination of a faint whine and a pant. "I... uh... well... you're... you're such a good host and, um... and boss... and... and friend... I just kinda thought you... um... might just... be... you know... humoring me and--"

Sam's rambling stopped the moment my lower hand made its way to the tail button on his jeans. A moment later it was open and my fingers were making lazy circles along the thick fur of his lower back. I felt his knees grow weak so I held him against myself and that's when I felt the firmness between his legs. I looked down at him, even as he looked up at me, pink tongue flicking out to lick against at my chin. "It wasn't just because you're a Burb Dog that you told your parents you didn't want to marry that girl..."

He glanced down and away from me again, "I... uh... thought you already kinda figured that out."

I backed up until I felt the edge of the sofa against the back of my thighs, then picked Sam up and turned him around so I could rest his rump there, freeing up one of my hands. That free hand went to the bottom of his muzzle and tilted his face up so I could look him in the eyes, "Honestly? I'd been second-guessing myself because I thought I was coloring reality with my hopes."

The admission caught him by surprise and he opened up his muzzle to speak, but I interrupted him by kissing him again. Dogs don't exactly kiss in the human sense... at least, not the close, romantic kind of kiss. They can be kissed just fine, but their only forms of reciprocation are simple muzzle-touch pecks... or the hot and heavy full tongue kind. At that moment, what we shared was no little smooch.

With my left hand still holding him around the back and my right hand pressed against his chin I was in full control of everything except the kiss itself; a Dog tongue is far larger than a Human's and he was more than eager to meet my enthusiasm. Another soft whine escaped him, and I felt him wriggle against the sofa as he kicked at his pants. Only then did I realize just how damp the front of his jeans had become.

Smiling, I slid my hand down from his muzzle to his new collar and took hold of it. I released my hold on him around the waist and slowly broke our kiss. When our eyes locked again I saw the excitement, trepidation, and unabashed need in his gaze and, with that, I gave him a slight shove backwards, using the collar to slow his fall over the sofa and onto the cushions, leaving his legs sticking up over the backing. Two yanks later and his jeans were off him completely, quickly discarded on the floor as I circled around the furniture to gaze upon my Burb Dog.

Sam remained laying right where he was, tail curled up between his legs, due as much to how he was splayed on the sofa as his nakedness. The Lab was laying mostly on his shoulders and neck, head resting on the cushion and butt sticking up along the backrest. I laughed lightly when I realized he wasn't moving in the least, staring up at he obediently as his ears reddened. Leaning forward, a took gentle hold of his tail and brushed it aside.

As with everywhere else on his body, Sam's groin was covered in pure white fur and any skin visible beneath was very pale. The single exception in all of it was the crown of his very thick sheath, where a faint ring of blackness contrasted with the rest of his body... and the bubblegum pink hint of the excited Dog's sheath contents. It was dripping constantly, and he squirmed the moment I leaned forward and pressed my hand to his abdomen. "You tell me the moment you're not comfortable with this, alright?"

He gasped at my touch, and he barely managed to speak the words through the soft, excited chattering of his teeth, "... like... if you're... if you're going... too slow?"

I smiled at that confirmation and leaned forward even more. His entire body went taut the moment my lips pressed against his damp sheath tip, and then went immediately slack when my tongue worked its way inside it. The entire series of motions was accompanied by a lengthy, deep-chested groan. Smiling, I didn't stop there, and gently caressed his sheath and its firming contents, accepting his shaft as it slipped free and into my lips. My focus was solely on the Dog flesh in front of me... until I heard the sound of my slacks being unzipped; a moment later my own member was assaulted by a warm, textured muzzle slipping over it.

Although I'd never been with a Dog in that way there were a few things I did remember from health class from ages ago in high school, and the most important was that things could get really uncomfortable for a Dog seeking sexual companionship if their knot was allowed to firm up in their sheath. Despite the incredible feeling of his muzzle surrounding my flesh, I managed to keep my senses enough to work both my hands to his sheath, easing it back even as his knot started to grow larger and thicker.

He gasped against my groin, paws moving to either side of my hips so he could pull my slacks the rest of the way off, but that movement halted as he gargled against my glans, entire body stiffening. A moment later I was surprised as his shaft pulsed in my mouth once... then again. Suddenly, by the third one, copious amounts of hot, bitter seed erupted from him, pouring down my throat. Swallowing reflexively, I had a hard time keeping up with how quickly it all came out. Just as some was starting to spill out the corners of my mouth, Sam went slack, and slid the rest of the way down the sofa with a soft, content murr.

Smiling, I slowly slipped my own flesh free from his muzzle and stepped away from him. Chidingly I noted, "Well... someone was certainly ready."

His tail beat rapidly against the carpet even as his ears reddened, "Alan.. I've... just... I've dreamed about... about all of that... forever."

Kneeling down I brushed my palm against the side of his muzzle and he closed his eyes, shivering at the touch. Leaning forward, I pressed my nose to his, "Then I'm glad I could help you with your--"

The rest of the words were caught in my throat as his paw slid between my legs and began gently kneading my testicles before sliding up to grip my member, "But... I... uh... really want to do something for you too."

Taking my own turn to blush, I gently moved his paw, "Thank you, Sam... but I've never really been able to get off by--"

For the second time in a minute the Dog had me speechless. Rather than object or try to push the issue of 'lending me a paw', he instead got up to his knees and about-faced, leaning over the sofa with his rump facing me, tail up, and to the side, revealing a small cotton-candy pink button amidst the sea of white. He wagged his entire butt invitingly as he looked over his shoulder, "As long as I can... uh... still tell you if I'm... uncomfortable... I haven't ever... y'know... done this before..."

I couldn't say then, and I still don't know now what it was that excited me so much about that moment, but I was leaking so much that I didn't even think I'd need lube. Regardless, I wasn't about to start him off with nothing. Mouth still full of the taste of Dog, I spat out onto my hand. I could feel the combination of saliva and semen between my fingers, and as I slid my hand beneath the raised tail I realized it would work well enough. My slick middle finger gently teased at his opening and Sam arched his back, tail kinking even further off to the side as he let out a soft whimper. I froze immediately, "Are you alright?"

His hesitant, tight-voiced response was less than reassuring, "Mmm-hmm."

Vowing to myself to go slower, I continued teasing his opening now and again while slathering another helping of semen-spittle up against his tail hole. As I did that I used my other hand to apply a liberal amount to myself. I was able to hear the beating of my own heart in my ears by that point and, thankfully, Sam didn't have as much trouble the next time I explored his depths with a finger... in fact, I was sure he'd pushed back against it even as he let out a warbling growl of pleasure. His sheath was already withdrawn and a fresh erection was bobbing beneath him-- certainly a good sign.

I was more than ready to experience all that Sam could offer as a partner but I had to remind myself again that I needed to go slow. Counting out a tempo isn't exactly a turn-on, but I had resolved to make sure that I didn't hurt him. In the end, focusing on something other than the sexy little white Labrador presenting himself to me was probably a good thing, as I almost lost it when his opening finally gave way and permitted my the tip of my shaft entrance. He shivered beneath me, tail hole spasming against my member. I halted right there, as much for his comfort as to avoid a premature end. I gently stroked his back, "Almost in."

His response surprised me, "Mmm... keep going... god, keep going, Alan."

I'd like to say that we made love for hours, but I prefer to not lie. It had been a long time since I'd been with anyone and it was Sam's first time. Frankly, I don't think it lasted maybe more than a minute before I was at the end of my endurance but that was probably for the best-- the first time receiving for someone isn't exactly easy if they're at it forever. I didn't have to feel too bad about not lasting long; he loosed a second load all over the carpet before I'd finished. We ended up sleeping that night in the living room with both of us plenty happy about the relationship we'd consummated.

Two years later we're still going strong, and I think that's to be expected. Not every relationship starts hot and heavy... most of the long-lasting, worthwhile ones grow slowly over time. Sam's done with college and he's actually working full time at the firm where I am... but that's only part time since he's still my service dog. I'm happy to report that I haven't had a single peanut-related illness since he took the position, but, ever since that night he's provided a much wider variety of services... and neither of us would have it any other way.