Page 7 of Scout Takes the Lead
After that we worked on sit, and then lie down. Some of the dogs were too wild to stay still for long, and others were hard to rouse once they’d slumped down to the floor. But I’ve seen all those problems before.
I had a feeling Alex would try and sneak out as soon as the class was over, but selfishly I wanted to spend more time with him and Scout. So I positioned myself by the door as I called an end to the class.
I praised everyone and told them I was looking forward to seeing them the following Saturday morning. As I did, I body-blocked Alex so that he couldn’t get around me easily. My scheme worked, because he was the last one to leave.
“You’re doing a great job with Scout,” I said. “You have time for a cup of coffee? I can share some other things you can work on with him during the week, since he’s doing so well.”
Once again, I could tell from the way Alex’s eyes darted back and forth that there was a battle going on in his head.
“Do you know Java Boys?” I asked. “They’ve got a great patio where humans and dogs can hang out. Lots of space between tables.”
That must have been the right suggestion, because his body relaxed. “Yeah, I know it,” he said. “Scout and I have been there.”
“Great. I’ll meet you there in ten minutes. I have to clean up.”
“I can help with that.” He looked at his dog. “Scout. Lie down.” The pup obeyed easily, spreading his paws out in front of him and his legs behind. He watched closely as Alex helped me stack the chairs and stow my toys and treats in a cabinet.
Java Boys was only a few blocks away, so we walked there together. Alex’s head swiveled, alert to everything going on around us. Alex paid for my coffee while I sat outside with Scout.
“I used to walk past this place when I first moved here,” he said. “But I never came in. I mean, it’s very open and welcoming, but I didn’t know anything about all the fancy coffee drinks and I didn’t want to look like a fool.”
“But you have come in,” I said.
He nodded. “After I got Scout. Something about him makes it easier for me to face new challenges.”
“So, tell me about yourself. Where are you from?”
“Carmel, Indiana,” he said. “Suburb of Indianapolis. Two years of college there, then I went into the Army. My ASVAB score sent me to combat engineering. Four years in the service, then discharged.”
“What brought you to Florida?”
“I wanted somewhere warm. No more Indiana winters for this boy. And there’s a good VA hospital in Miami. How did you get into dog training?”
Interesting how quickly he shifted the conversation to me. Either he was a sophisticated dater, or he didn’t like to talk about himself.
“I always loved animals. For ages I wanted to be a veterinarian and I took every chance I had to volunteer with vets or at the shelter.” I laughed. “When I was in high school I put an ad in the local penny saver to say that I was a teenaged girl who wanted to work with animals, and I put my phone number.”
Alex sipped his coffee, and Scout lapped at the cup of water Alex had brought out for him.
“I started getting all these weirdo calls,” I continued. “Men who would say they were animals and wanted to work with me.”
Alex’s mouth opened wide. “Wow.”
“Yeah, I had no idea there were so many strange men in the world. I finally had to change my cell number.” I was embarrassed by that long-ago faux pas, so I turned the conversation back to him. I was also curious to know more about him, and see how quickly he’d move it back to me. “How long have you lived here?” I asked.
“Six months. How about you?”
I laughed. He was good at deflecting. “I’m a second-generation Floridian,” I said. “My grandpa was sent to Coral Gables to recuperate after World War II. A fancy hotel called the Biltmore, converted to a military hospital for a while. He met my grandma, who was a nurse there, and they both loved Florida and decided to stay. My dad and I were both born in the same hospital in downtown Miami, Jackson.”
“And your mom?”
“She was born in San Juan, and came to Miami when she was eighteen to stay with cousins. Met my dad, and settled down with him.”
“That’s sweet.”
I shook my head. “Sadly, it wasn’t. Cubans moved into Miami and they were followed by all kinds of immigrants from Latin and South America. My dad was an air conditioning repairman and his company was bought by Cubans, and suddenly everybody around him was speaking Spanish. He lost his job and had trouble finding another. He blamed it all on Spanish-speaking people, including my mother.”
“That sucks.”
