Page 3 of Scout Takes the Lead
Once we were older and started to notice boys, things changed. Becca decided that Buddy and Piper had shaped my attitude toward the males of any species. She believed that I looked for guys and dogs who needed to be rescued.
Her key example was Garrett Lam, my most recent ex. He had a lot of issues, starting with his identity as a first-generation Chinese-American, balancing out the filial piety and obedience his parents expected with the freedom available to him here and ending with his inability to see a woman as his equal. He also had an adorable Pekingese who was jealous of any woman. Throw in a bad temper and you’ve got a toxic stew I sampled for way too long.
By then I had completed the education I needed to be a licensed dog trainer, so I defended myself to Becca. “Garrett was ignoring Lily and I had to teach him how to be good to her. Dating him was just a sideline.”
But I knew that wasn’t the whole truth.
I was shopping for training treats for the class I teach on Saturdays when I noticed that the handsome guy had a big bag of puppy chow in the wagon. “Has he tried that food yet?” I asked, flashing a charming smile.
The guy shook his head.
"Can't waste money on food that'll make your little guy sick. Believe me, cleaning up dog vomit is not my idea of a good time." I gestured for him to follow me. "I'll show you what I do with all my new puppy buddies."
“Do you go through puppies often?” the guy asked.
"Well, as a trainer, it's kind of my thing. Working with owners and their pups until they become inseparable besties." I extended my hand. "Grace de Windt, at your service."
He looked reluctant to touch me, like someone with ADHD who’s just got finished washing his hands eight times. But eventually, he took my hand. His was huge, and the size of it gave me a sense of security, like he could take care of me.
“Alex Dow,” he said. “I just got Scout from a rescue about an hour ago. Maybe you could help me out.”
Of course I know it’s wrong to expect a guy to take care of me. I’ve been seeing a therapist off and on, and Dr. Altman agrees with Becca and says I’m dealing with my childhood issues by working with dogs. I can turn their lives around, while mine alternates between being out of control and wobbling on training wheels.
“Skip that food,” I said, pointing to one bag. “I had a client who swore that food put the shit in shih-tzu.” I blushed. I wasn’t usually that crude.
Alex laughed.
“Yeah, it’s funny until it’s your four-thousand-dollar couch that needs to be reupholstered.”
“That won’t be a problem for me,” Alex said. “The furniture in my apartment came with the place, and none of it is worth anything.”
I nodded. Yeah, that’s what a lot of guys said.
Scout was absolutely adorable. I know, most puppies are, but he had a sort of gravitas mixed with his puppy charm. His eyes were big and brown and his nose was black, but the rest of him was a lovely golden color. His nose was long and when you looked at him straight-on his head had the shape of a lightbulb.
Alex headed to the toy aisle, and I wanted to tell him that there were more important things to focus on with a new puppy, but instead I followed. He picked up a rubber dachshund and squeaked it in front of Scout. The dog’s eyes opened wide and he lunged for it.
“Not until I pay for it, boy,” he said.
I grabbed a tennis ball off the shelf and tossed it at Alex. He grabbed it immediately, though he looked startled. “Good reflexes,” I said. “Try that with Scout.”
“Oh.” He did, and Scout tried to get the ball, but it fell to the ground. The dog scrambled after it and we both laughed. We played with a few more toys after that in a kind of three-way play date, and Alex seemed to be warming up to me, and learning how to interact with Scout at the same time. At one point I caught his eye and blushed, and he looked away.
Alex and I walked around the store together and I showed him the kind of all-natural treats to buy for Scout. “Be careful of anything made in China,” I said. “They don’t have the same safety standards we do.”
I pulled one bag off the shelf. “I know it’s goofy, but I like the ones that look like people food,” I said. “These tiny T-bone steaks are the right size for training. When you’re teaching a dog a command, you don’t want to give him a huge treat that he’ll chew on for a long time because he’ll forget what he’s learning and focus on the treat.”
Scout eagerly sniffed the bag as Alex leaned past him to put the T-bone treats in his cart. “Good advice,” he said. “What about one of these rawhide bones? It says on the package it can help clean his teeth.”
I shook my head. “There are a lot of problems with rawhide. They can harbor bacteria, or chunks can get caught in Scout’s digestive system. I suggest these sweet potato chews instead. Try this package of small ones. His jaws aren’t strong enough yet for the big ones.”
Alex was impressed. “You sure know a lot about dogs.”
“It comes with the territory,” I said. “I teach an obedience class on Saturdays here at the store.”
I pulled a card out of my pocket. “You should bring Scout. I’m starting a new class this week.”
He took the card, and I felt a warm tingle as his fingers touched mine. But once again, he backed away quickly.
