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It’s Shane’s idea.
They’re sitting on the couch on one of their weekends together, even rarer at the moment because it’s the playoffs. Ilya knows it’s serious when Shane mutes the hockey game they’re watching. He turns towards his boyfriend curiously, and Shane is already facing him, legs tucked up on the couch and a look on his face that Ilya knows means he’s been planning to talk about whatever this is for a while.
“I was thinking,” Shane begins, and his tone is cautious, so Ilya is wary, “that you could get a dog.” Which is not what Ilya expected him to say at all. Shane shuffles closer to Ilya on the couch, rests a hand on his knee. “A service dog,” he clarifies.
Ilya stares at him. “I am not blind, Shane,” he says.
Shane laughs. “I know,” he says. “It wouldn’t be for blindness, it would be for your PTSD. C-PTSD.” He says the diagnosis matter-of-factly, the way he always does. Like it’s just another part of Ilya he loves, not a monster.
“Service dogs can help with that?” he asks, curiosity getting the better of his automatic shame.
Shane nods, a little eagerly, and brushes a thumb along Ilya’s thigh. “Yeah, I’ve been doing some research. They can do all sorts of things - respond to panic attacks, help with dissociation, interrupt nightmares.”
“I don’t have that many nightmares,” Ilya says immediately.
Shane squeezes Ilya’s knee, looks at him with kind eyes. “You had one last night.”
Which is just a rude reminder. Ilya had been trying to forget. It had taken Shane over a minute to wake him from it, and when he had Ilya had been clammy and trembling and gasping for air.
“I cannot get a dog. I’m away all the time, I have practice and games.”
“A service dog could travel with you, and go with you to practice. And mum and dad could mind them sometimes, if you ever wanted a break.”
Shane has really thought this through. It was the middle of playoffs, Montreal was as determined to win as ever, and he had found time to research this for Ilya.
“I’m sorry my nightmares wake you,” Ilya says, familiar guilt seeping in. He shouldn’t be like this. His mother had died so long ago. His father more recently, but still, three years was a long time. It didn’t make sense that he still woke screaming, that memories still hurt so much, that it all still hurt so much.
“Baby, I wish they would wake me every time. I wish I could be with you whenever you need. But I can’t. So, when I’m not here a dog could help you.” He takes both of Ilya’s hands in his, and he is looking at Ilya with so much patience and love. Ilya wants to cry. He could cry, he knows. He can’t help thinking this conversation would be a lot less scary with a dog.
“I love you,” Shane says, like a reminder (and sometimes Ilya does forget). “I want you to have the support you need and deserve. And, you love dogs.” His mouth crooks up at the corner. Ilya can’t help smiling back at him, eyes watery.
“Okay,” he says. “I will think about maybe getting a dog. A service dog.”
Shane appears to be holding back his reaction, but his eyes dance with excitement and, Ilya realises with a pang, relief.
“I’ll show you the organisation I’m looking at.” Shane leans forward to grab his laptop off the coffee table along with his glasses. The absence of his hands makes Ilya’s want to clench with anxiety, but then Shane is reaching for him again with one hand, typing with the other. His thumb rubs soothingly across Ilya’s knuckles. He pulls up a website - it’s professional and overwhelming but the photos of dogs help.
“You would probably get a labrador, but they do work with other breeds,” Shane is saying, and he is so focused, his eyes squinting under his glasses the way they do when he really cares about something. His freckles are slightly scrunched up and Ilya wants to bite his cheeks. He drops his head onto Shane’s shoulder and follows along as Shane reads aloud.
“I love you,” he says, when Shane finally draws breath. He loves Shane so much, he’s not sure there will be enough love left over for a dog. And he really loves dogs, so he must really love Shane. He guesses he’ll have to find out.
* * *
Maisie comes home on a Monday afternoon. Shane wanted to be there but the trainer could only drop her off on a certain day, and he was in Montreal.
Send pictures!! Shane texts, just before two pm.
Ilya smiles at his phone. He pulls his shirt up with his teeth and sends a selfie, abs on display.
Not those kind of pictures 🙄
Then Shane sends a photo of himself shirtless in the locker room, half dressed in his compression gear.
I love you, and I’m so proud of you, he captions it, like he doesn’t know Ilya is now half-hard and no longer thinking about dogs.
The doorbell rings and he puts his phone in his pocket. Dogs, he reminds himself. Trauma. C-PTSD.
He opens the door to a smiling woman and a cream labrador. One of them is wagging her tail so hard it may fall off. Ilya drops to his knees in the hallway and Maisie runs to him immediately, pushing the side of her bum into his stomach and grinning at him over her shoulder. He has met her a few times by now for regular training sessions to get them used to working as a team. Maisie is just as excited to see him every time, and every time Ilya sees her it’s a bit like a fog has lifted.
“Hello, sweet girl. It’s so good to see you. You’re so beautiful.” Maisie practically vibrates at his gooey words. “Yes, you are.” She jumps up to lick his face and he laughs.
“I see she’s got the hang of tactile grounding,” Hannah, Maisie’s trainer says, laughing with him.
“She is very good girl. I am very grounded,” Ilya manages to get out between licks.
He stands and holds out a hand. “Hi, Hannah. Sorry I ignored you. In my defence…” he holds both hands out to gesture at Maisie, who has flopped on her side at his feet, tail thumping against the floor.
Hannah laughs again. She seems almost as happy as Maisie. “It’s good to see you, Ilya. I think Maisie is going to be a very good fit.”
“Thank you for trusting me with her,” Ilya says, seriously.
Hannah’s eyes soften. “She’ll be lucky to have you as her handler.”
Ilya looks down at Maisie. When he makes eye contact she rolls onto her back, clearly wanting belly rubs. He obliges, and tries to absorb the fact she is now his dog. Well, once he signs the paperwork.
“Let’s sit down,” he says.
Hannah collects a giant bag from the doorway before following him to the dining room. The humans take seats and Maisie immediately spots the giant dog bed in the corner and sprawls out on it.
“She’s already had a run this morning, and it’s best to let her rest for the rest of today,” Hannah says, and Maisie lets out a contented sigh as if in agreement.
“Is big day for her. New home. New me,” Ilya says.
“She already loves you. She’ll adjust in no time, but remember to contact me if there are any issues. Any at all.”
They sign all the paperwork and go over the training schedule. The plan is to let Maisie settle in for a week before bringing her to the rink. Ilya is nervous, but the whole team has met her (and been licked by her) and he knows it will be fine.
“Now, a lot of her tasks are ready, but some might take some time to be consistent, like the nightmare interruption. Just make sure you’re always reinforcing her with treats or pats. She has a strong reinforcement history already, but it’s important to maintain it.”
Ilya nods. He knows all this from the training sessions, but Hannah is in handover mode and he knows she probably has a list of things to cover before leaving.
“We have got this, yes, Maisie,” Ilya says. Maisie pricks her ears up and trots over, resting her chin on his knee. He rubs her velvety ears. He knows she’s just being a dog right now, not even deliberately performing a trained task, but just the weight of her head, the softness of her fur, the way she is here and happy and staying, makes him feel more settled than he has in ages. He always feels like this when Maisie is around.
“You guys have got this,” Hannah echoes his earlier words as they say goodbye at the front door. Maisie is right by his side, and though she watches Hannah leave, she seems to know Ilya is her new home.
I have best dog in the world, Ilya texts Shane as he walks to the living room, Maisie trotting beside him. He sends a photo of them cuddled on the couch, Maisie between his outstretched legs with her head on his stomach. He sends another photo of her sleepy face.
Is it okay if I come home tonight? Shane replies. I know it was supposed to be tomorrow morning but I miss you, and I want to see Maisie. It’s okay if you’d rather have the first night alone with her though.
Ilya shakes his head in disbelief. You are asking if I want to be cuddled by dog and my beautiful boyfriend? What kind of question is this.
I’ll be there soon ❤️