Bandit - The Prequel

"Oh, joy and fucking happiness! What? The IRS is coming after me because I owe back taxes on income I was too drunk and screwed up to file on?"

"Oh fudge! I hadn't thought about that! You need to get that fixed fast. But no, I think I found a program for you."

"What kind of program?"

"What do you know about service dogs?" he asked me.

"Nothing. Why?"

By the time I dealt with the IRS my savings account was twenty-two thousand dollars lighter. The disability back payment covered that, and I laughed thinking that Uncle Sam had basically spent thousands of dollars to put my checking account right back to where it was when he started. That still left me with more money than I thought I would ever have at this point in my life.

I was actually starting to enjoy my life again and the look on the other residents faces when I pulled into the parking lot driving a beat-up Jeep CJ-7 that was blowing more exhaust through the holes in the floor than it was out of the tailpipe was hilarious.

"It's a fixer upper." I said as I shut it off and listened to it cough and sputter for a few seconds before it finally died.

"Dude, how much did they pay you to take it off their hands?" Tony asked.

"About treefiddy." I said with a laugh.

"It has potential."

"Don't we all?"

"Yep, but Dude, you really need to ditch the 8-track and maybe upgrade to a cassette player instead." Tony said with a grin.

"No damn way." I said, laughing at him and holding up the Electric Light Orchestra's 'Out of the Blue' eight track cartridge the previous owner had given me.

"God help us!" he replied as I popped it in and 'Turn to Stone' began blaring out of the speakers.

My trip to the service dog organization was almost a disaster. I was becoming really stressed out at the thought of moving back home. I had spoken to Bobby numerous times over the last month that I was in Richmond and I was finally convinced that he was willing to help without it becoming a drama-fest of sympathy. I had even driven up twice and stayed with him and Heather, to look at houses in the area and I was waiting on an offer on a cabin I had liked to be accepted.

Tony was tied up the day I went to look at the dogs, so David took a day off work to go there with me. I had done their assessment online and it turned out that I was a perfect fit for a dog. I never bothered to ask how many strings got pulled to jump me to the head of the line but I'm pretty sure it was more than one. I met Kurt, the director in his office and he explained what the organization did and what was expected of me if I did find a good fit with a dog here.

"Mr. Williams? Have you ever seen or read Harry Potter?" Kurt asked as we walked through the facility and entered the training yard.

"Yes." I answered, slightly taken aback by the question and sadly remembering all the times I had read the first of those books to my children before they went to bed.

"Dogs are like wands; they chose the human. Keep that in mind and don't get frustrated if you don't seem to bond with one right away. These animals are chosen for their intelligence and their ability to adapt to their handlers and surroundings."

"Got it. Thanks for the heads up." I said, looking over at David and chuckling.

The dog choses the human? I didn't know what he was on, but I wanted fifty-five gallons of it in a drum with a four-foot long straw.

There were three German Shepherds, a Boxer and a Greyhound who was a rescued racing dog but there was something missing. I couldn't put my finger on it but there was a chemistry that just wasn't there. It was like I would have had to settle for one of them and I didn't like that feeling. I think they sensed it because none of them seemed interested in me either. I asked the director if these were all the dogs that they had ready and he smiled sadly and nodded his head.

Then I heard a sharp bark behind me.

Turning around I saw a handsome, German Shepherd in a kennel by himself, with his head cocked to the right. He had a black mask across both eyes and a black saddle; the rest of his fur was a deep dark brown. As I looked at him he stood up then barked a second time and lifted his paw up to the chain link door that separated us; cocking his head to the left he sat down and barked again.

"Who is that?" I asked, almost afraid that speaking would somehow ruin the moment.

"Bandit." Kurt whispered.

"Is he ready?"

"We thought he was, but he was returned last week."

"Why?"

"The recipient said that he didn't feel it was a good match after he got him home. The poor guy has been depressed since he got back. This is the first sign of life that I've seen in him in days."

"Can I see him? I sort of understand what it feels like to be abandoned."

"Sure, let me grab a lead."

"The wand choses the wizard Mr. Potter." David whispered with awe, in a passable English accent behind me.

"Indeed Mr. Ollivander, indeed it does." I said, watching as the director led Bandit over to me.

"Have you ever been around or owned a German Shepherd Sam?" Kurt asked me as I sat on the ground beside Bandit.

"No, not really, I've worked with them in Afghanistan, but this is totally different."

"At least you understand that. He isn't a working dog; he won't find a bomb for you but if you listen to him, he can keep you from blowing up or melting down."

"That would be nice." I said, scratching Bandit's ears.

We went through basic training together; well, service dog basic training anyway. It took about six weeks of on-site training to learn each other's idiosyncrasies. Each day that I left the facility I felt a little better about it and each morning I woke up and rushed to get back and each day Bandit seemed happier to see me show up. The best part came at during the third week when I was allowed to take Bandit home with me every night and bring him back the next day.

On the first Saturday in June, I loaded the few boxes of clothes that I had into my Jeep to begin my trek back home. Bandit was sitting in the passenger seat with his yellow vest on. Underneath the Service Dog patch were 3^rd and 4^th Infantry Division patches, a 10^th Mountain Division patch and a military style name tape with BANDIT in black upper-case letters. His tongue was hanging out the side of his muzzle as he panted in the early morning heat and humidity, and he was fidgeting with excitement.

I had gotten a call from Heather about an hour ago telling me that she had met the furniture delivery guys and they were in the process of setting up the bedroom and living room. She wanted to know what to do with all of my "military stuff" that Shelby had shipped to me the week before.

"Just shove it in the back bedroom. I'll deal with it later." I told her.

"How did you get her to send it to you?" she asked.

"I paid her three times what it cost her to ship it."

"I'll see you in a few hours Sweetie."

"Thank you, Heather. I owe you big time for this."

"No, you don't." she said laughing, then adding, "But I do like dark chocolate and Tulips."

"Noted, just don't tell your husband about it; you know how he gets."

"It'll be our little secret Baby." she whispered seductively before she laughed and disconnected the call.

After shaking hands with Tony and David I climbed behind the wheel of the Jeep and pulled up to the highway. Just before I let the clutch out I looked over at Bandit, who was now sitting up and wagging his tail excitedly; looking at me, he barked as if to say, "Let's get this circus on the road."

"What is it boy? Are you ready to start something new? Huh?" I asked as he cocked his head at the sound of my voice, then added "Are you?"

He barked loudly and lifted his paw as if he was pointing down the road.

"Well, let's do this." I said, smiling and turning left onto the road.

On that first night, in my new home, I realized that I was finally beginning to finally find some peace in my life. Bandit lifted his head when I stopped scratching and perking up his ears he looked at me.

"Do you think we can get through this together?" I asked as I sat on the couch, slowly petting his head again. He looked up at me not understanding a single word that I had said, but responding to my voice, he inched a little closer to me and laid his head back down on my lap.

"Me too buddy. Me too."

As always, I hope you liked it.

YDW

*****

Author's Note: Now you have the backstory; or a little of it anyway. Yes, I realize it could have been longer and I could have delved into the mind of someone who has PTSD further. I simply wanted to touch on a few of the many struggles numerous veterans like Sam have to overcome in order to function in society. Alcoholism, drug dependency, divorce and homelessness are but a few.

A few years ago, I saw a political cartoon that broke my heart because a bearded, disheveled veteran in a cardboard box said, "In 2004 people would cross the street to shake my hand. Now they cross it to get away from the crazy homeless guy."

I received so many kind reviews and emails on Bandit asking so many questions that I felt the need to add to the story.

Let me address a few of the questions.

Did you think that Bandit would get the reception it has gotten on Literotica?

No and thank you all for the amazing amount of love you have shown.

Are you a veteran?

Yes, and I do not miss the military in the least. But, God help me, I miss the men and women I got to work with.

Is Bandit an autobiography?

No. I don't own a service dog; I never have. But I am amazed by the dogs that I do know and the positive impacts they've had on my friend's lives.

Do you really think an erotic story site is the proper venue to bring attention to Combat Related PTSD?

There are tens of thousands of veterans in the United States with CRPTSD. I'm not the first to write a story on Literotica about it and I probably won't be the last. I got extremely lucky when Bandit got this much exposure because it gave, and still gives, the victims and survivors a voice; or at least I hope it does.

Twenty-two veterans a day commit suicide in the US alone, and that is twenty-two too many. This story has made people think, laugh, cry and apparently, have a little hope. People seem to think that Sam and Misti are the central characters: that makes me smile. How many of you would have read this far if it weren't for Bandit?

Is the story complete or is there more in the works?

There is more in the works. I have the epilogue planned out and about 20% written. Spoiler Alert: It will probably break a few hearts and cause a few tears; but, that's life.