"Yes. He's a good dog. Doesn't deserve to die."
"Guess not, but, Bear, you can't have dogs in the apartment." He looks at Panzer, whose eyes are flicking between Riley and me. "He looks like he could take down a goddamned moose."
"Prob'ly."
"Okay, um." He pinches the bridge of his nose. "And you're planning on…what? Him coming to work with us?"
"Yes."
"Bear…"
"I tell him to lay down and stay, he'll stay put till I say otherwise. Won’t bark. Won't chase nothin'."
“He won’t attack anyone?" Riley asks, sounding skeptical.
"Long as they don't pose a threat to me."
"Bear, I'm not sure a whole fuckin' army could pose a threat to you," he says, chuckling.
"From your perspective. He's got a different one." I ruffle Panzer's ears. "He's a good dog. He won't be a problem."
Riley sighs, regarding the animal. "Will he bite me if I pet him?"
"Does it seem like it?" I ask. "Let him sniff the back of your hand."
Riley puts his hand near Panzer's snout, letting the dog sniff. After a couple of good whiffs, Panzer gives Riley's hand a little lick and then nudges his hand with his snout.
"Wants you to scratch his ears," I say.
Riley gives Panzer's ears a good scratching, earning a funny little groan from my new friend. "Alright. We can give it a go. But if the manager catches wind that you've got a dog up there, you'll have to figure something else out."
"Worst case, he sleeps at the yard," I say. "Rather he stays with me, though. He…he helps me."
Riley nods, clapping me on the shoulder. "I get that. Transitioning to freedom after that long on the inside isn't easy. It’d be good for you to have a companion.” Another ruffle of Panzer's ears, and then he backs out of the spot and heads for Tompkins Road. "Long as he behaves, I'm cool with it."
The job site is less than ten minutes away—we swing through McDonald's on the way for breakfast; I order a couple extra sausage patties for Panzer, who wolfs them down happily, his wet black nose twitching hopefully as we eat ours.
We're working in a cul-de-sac off Manitou near Division; the homes on the street are all mid-century ranches in varying states of disrepair. Of the sixteen homes on the street, Felix and Riley own eight, the rest either abandoned and falling apart or empty and for sale—only two are occupied, and according to Riley, they're close to selling. We're in the process of demo’ing the properties owned by the brothers. We've finished two over the last week, and are starting a new one today.
The rest of the crew are already there—Larry, Eddie, Miguel, and Juan arriving together in one truck, Richie, Darius, Duane,and Anthony in another. Both trucks bear the company logo, hauling enclosed trailers full of equipment—sleds, wrecking bars, Sawzalls, angle grinders, jackhammers, wheelbarrows, tile scrapers, and a bunch of other shit.
The guys set about gathering gear, putting on high-vis vests, hardhats, and safety glasses while Riley unlocks the front door.
He stands on the stoop as we head for the door and claps his hands. "Quick change of plans today, fellas."
Before he can get anything else out, Darius raises his hand. "Question, boss." He points at Panzer, who is currently lounging on the grassy verge between the sidewalk and the road. "Why we got a big scary-ass dog?"
Riley nods at me. "Bear?"
"That's Panzer. Won't bother you. Just don't try to pet him unless I'm with you."
Darius looks at me. "Long as he stays way the hell away from me, I'm cool."
"Anyone have issues with Panzer?" Riley asks. No one else says anything. "Right. So. Last couple weeks I've been noticing that Bear tends to work ahead of everyone else."
Juan grins at me. "That's ‘cuz he works like five people."
Riley chuckles. "Exactly my thinking, Juan. So, what I propose is that Bear takes a house by himself and the rest of us work together as usual. Bear, that cool with you?"
