Page 24 of Scout Takes the Lead
Alex let go of Cheyenne’s collar and he didn’t move.
“Good boy, Cheyenne,” Kenny said.
“Now kneel down to his level and give him the come command,” I said. Kenny did as instructed, and Cheyenne romped over to him, his toenails clicking on the concrete floor.
“Good boy,” he said, and he buried his head in the puppy’s fur. “You’re daddy’s sweetheart!”
“Now reverse,” I said. Kenny and Alex practiced with the dogs, praising them lavishly when they obeyed. Alex and Scout weren’t perfect at first, but Scout picked up quickly.
“You’re all doing great,” I said when they were finished. “Next week we’ll focus on a few other things like getting a dog to stop barking, and keeping a dog from jumping up on you.”
“I can use that,” Kenny said, and everyone laughed.
I took a deep breath and said, “Alex, can I talk to you for a minute?” I almost laughed when I saw his face, because he looked like a dog who knows he has misbehaved and is ready to be yelled at.
“I did some research on additional training I can give Scout to be your service dog,” I said. “Do you have a few minutes to hang around?”
He was surprised, but he said, “Yeah. What other things?”
“I want to start with interruption tasks,” I said. “This might be hard for you, though.”
He squared his shoulders. “I can manage whatever you need.”
“Good. I want you to close your eyes and remember Afghanistan.”
“Really?”
“Yup. Start with something good. What did you like about the country?”
He laughed and said, “Not much,” but he closed his eyes.
“Tell me what you’re seeing.”
“Kids playing by the side of the road,” he said. “The kids were always so friendly.” He smiled. Scout sat on his haunches beside Alex, keeping his eyes on his dad. Even in the few weeks I’d known him, he was growing by leaps and bounds.
“Keep going,” I said. “What else?”
“An old lady is handing me a piece of melon. I swear, I’ve never tasted sweeter melons in my life.”
“Open your eyes.”
He did. “I think that’s the first time I’ve had good memories of Afghanistan since I came home,” he said. “But how does that help Scout? Was he supposed to interrupt me?”
“Only when you have bad memories,” I said. “Close your eyes again.”
Once they were closed I asked him to remember a day that went bad. He pursed his lips. “We were on our way to Kandahar in a convoy. I was sitting in the back of the truck watching the road behind us.”
“Don’t just tell me about it. Remember it.” Suddenly he started to shake, and I looked at Scout. I didn’t have to speak, I just pointed at Alex, and Scout nosed him. When he didn’t stop shaking immediately, Scout put his paw on Alex’s leg, and suddenly Alex’s eyes snapped open.
“That’s intervention,” I said. “Scout is a natural. He directed your attention away from your nightmare.”
“He’s done that a few times, without training.” Alex leaned down and rubbed Scout’s head. “We’re on the same wavelength that way.”
“Good. But just because a dog does something correct once or twice doesn’t mean the behavior has been ingrained in him. I want you to practice that with him a couple of times a day during the next week.”
“You want me to deliberately make myself crazy?”
“You have a therapist at the VA, don’t you?”
