Page 10 of Scout Takes the Lead
“Put your hand on Cheyenne’s flank and keep him in place,” I said. I pointed to the pavement and said, “Scout, down.”
My dog looked up at me. He was very comfortable there with his brother next to him. I could see he was tired after the effort of concentrating, too.
“How are you going to get him into your own car now?” Kenny asked.
“Didn’t drive here,” I said. “We walked.” I repeated the motion. “Scout, down.” He ignored me.
Kenny reached up and closed the hatch. “It’s settled, then. We’re giving you a ride to my place.”
“You don’t have to,” I protested, but Kenny was already walking around to the driver’s door. I didn’t like riding in a car with anyone else. The confined space made me too nervous. But it didn’t look like I had a choice, so I had to man up.
I slid into the seat beside Kenny. The leather embraced me, and there was plenty of room for my legs and my head. It smelled clean and fresh. “Nice ride,” I said.
“I got it a year ago,” he said. “My disposable income went up and I decided to treat myself.” He put the car in gear and backed out of the parking space. As he’d said, his apartment wasn’t far away, and I wondered why he didn’t just walk the dog. It was clear Kenny needed a lot of lessons in puppy care, and I wasn’t sure I was up to the task.
“Cheyenne kind of sucks all the air out of the house, you know?” Kenny said, as we pulled up in front of a 1960s era apartment building. “It’s always feed me, walk me, play with me.”
“Dogs are like that,” I said. He parked, and I got out of the car and walked around to the hatch, which rose pneumatically.
“Scout, stay.” I pointed at him. “Cheyenne, down.”
Cheyenne jumped out and I grabbed the handle of his lead before he could run away.
“Scout, down,” I said. Scout jumped out and stood beside me as the hatch closed on its own. I hadn’t minded riding in Kenny’s car at all. Maybe I was a BMW kind of guy and I’d never known it.
There was a fenced yard behind Kenny’s building, and we walked back there. While I held onto both dogs, he went inside and returned with a huge bag of the T-bone steak training treats. I hoped Scout wouldn’t get spoiled and would happily go back to the hot dog bits. But I knew dogs liked people food so I wasn’t too worried.
I did what Grace had done at the training, modeling behavior with Scout and then getting Kenny and Cheyenne to imitate us. Cheyenne was still a wild boy, but something about Scout’s demeanor calmed him and after a solid hour of training he was getting better at sit, down and heel.
I could tell Scout was tired, though, from the way his tongue hung down and he moved a bit more slowly, so I called a halt. Kenny brought out glasses of cold lemonade for us and we sat in the shade of a big tree with red flowers.
“You’re so at ease with dogs,” Kenny said. “It’s like you and Scout have been together forever. And you’re good at training. Even I feel calmer being around you.”
I realized that I hadn’t felt nervous the whole time I’d been with Kenny and Cheyenne. Maybe this having-a-friend thing might work out.
6: Clueless But Cute: Grace
I met Becca for dinner on Sunday. She had a graduate degree in poetry, which she said was a license for unemployment, but I’d convinced her to get a part-time job as an English professor at the local community college. It seemed to be working out for her—-she’d met other people interested in writing and literature, and though she didn’t like grading papers she enjoyed contact with students.
“What’s new?” I asked, as we sat down at an outdoor table in downtown Hollywood.
“Good news,” she said. “Enrollment is up, so the department chair said she can offer me four courses during the summer term.”
“That’s great. But I thought you were going to take the summer off and write. Aren’t you trying to finish a chapbook for a competition?”
“I have to make hay while the sun shines,” she said. “That’s the way my dad would put it. I don’t know how long this teaching gig will last, so I need to take the money while I can.” She looked down at the table and I knew there was something more.
“And?” I asked.
“One of the fossil professors just announced he’s retiring. Seventy-two. Can you believe it? He’s been at the college for forty years.”
I shivered. “I can’t imagine having a job for that long. I mean, I love working with dogs, but it’s not a career path. I’m too old to go to veterinary school and I don’t particularly want to be a vet tech for the rest of my life. I have a friend who’s a wildlife officer but she carries a gun and spends all her time in the Everglades. That’s not for me.”
“What about going back to school to learn how to use animals in therapy?” Becca asked. “You already have an associate’s degree. You could probably do some courses and get a certificate that would enable you to build your business from just obedience training.”
“I’ve thought about it,” I said. “But right now I’m happy doing what I’m doing.”
I sipped my drink. “But back to you. Do you want to teach during the summer?”
