'Hey man, you're looking good. How's that wonderful wife of yours?' Joe asked, leaning close to the screen, the better to see Donatello.
Ghost was lying underneath the desk, his head resting comfortably on Joe's right shoe. The pair were already in love.
A stern look from Dave had stopped the grumbling of some agents when they were told that the little dog was coming back to the cottage. Now, as he and Tony watched over the president on the call, he tutted quietly as he stood on watch.
His partner raised an eyebrow in question, wondering what the wordless acclimation had been about.
'Look at the size of the fluff ball. If another one of them complains about him so help me I may have to be restrained', Dave muttered. A dog lover himself, he'd been devastated when Commander had been forced to leave the White House. He knew so many of the complaints were based on malice, and petty differences with the first family. Although the agents were supposed to be non-political and protect the president equally irrespective of party allegiances, unfortunately that didn't always happen.
He shook his head now as he remembered the evening when Commander had gotten away from the first lady as they walked in the rose garden.
It still gnawed at him.
He wondered to this day if the dog had been disturbed on purpose. Commander had been trained by the Service so the agents should have had no trouble in managing him but yet that wasn't the case.
In Dave's opinion, conveyed to the president in confidence in the Oval Office, he felt the dog had done as he was trained to do and sought to neutralize a threat to his charge. Neither Tony nor the president disagreed with Commander's actions.
Unfortunately, conveniently, he thought cynically, the media caught hold of the story and carried out their own investigation. Counting every bump and scrape recorded by every agent and member of staff as a practical near death mauling, they acted as judge and jury until it was clear that while Commander resided at the White House neither the dog nor the family would get a moment's peace from the ridiculous story.
Commander had to go back to Delaware.
And the president had been devastated.
Stoic on the outside, unwilling to let the media see how deeply the decision cut, Tony saw and Dave saw that the man was brokenhearted. The old saying came to mind again. If you want a friend in Washington, get a dog. It seemed even that avenue wasn't available to this president.
Dave zoned in as Ghost stretched and sat up. The president moved too, smiling as he reached his hand underneath the desk and ruffled the dog's hairy coat. A long pink tongue wrapped around his finger in reply and the president patted his new friend's coat again. Ghost yawned and flopped back into his reclined position as if he'd just been checking that his human was ok.
Dave looked towards his partner. 'Eye's on? I just want to think through something', he said quietly.
Tony nodded and stood straighter; the primary security of the president had just been passed to him.
Satisfied with the arrangement, Dave leaned back against the wall and let his mind wander a little. He thought about Ghost, about how he'd been immediately drawn to the president on the beach, and again today, outside of the church he'd trundled over and practically sat on his shoe, and here he was again, laid across his feet. He thought about Commander, who'd done the same thing.
From the day the dog had arrived, gifted to the president by his brother, Commander would flop across his feet. Sitting in the Oval or in the residence; in the office or the sitting room, or at home in Delaware time and time again Commander would sit or lie as close to his master as he could possibly get.
