Page 9 of Scout Takes the Lead
“Scout? At the animal shelter on Griffin Road.”
Scout lunged at Cheyenne and they rolled around on the floor. “Scout! No!” I said, and I tugged sharply on his lead.
“Oh, let them play,” Kenny said. He wore a black polo shirt that hugged his skinny frame, and a tribal tattoo peeked out from under the right sleeve. “They’re puppies.”
I had decided to wait until Scout was trained to register him as a service dog, so I didn’t have that excuse. Scout looked up at me and I shrugged, and he returned to playing. He had begun to understand the rules—-that I was in charge, for one. Clearly Kenny hadn’t established that yet with his puppy.
“Did anyone ever tell you that you look like Cheyenne Jackson? He’s like my dream guy. So handsome!” He eyed me. “Same dark hair, dark eyes, same build, though your face is longer and narrower than his. You look like you work out. Do you? I go to the Power Fitness Gym sometimes.”
What an idiot, I thought. “No, I have some equipment in my house. I’m not big on organized fitness.”
“Sorry, I’m babbling,” Kenny said. “I do that when I get nervous.” He took a deep breath. “Your dog and mine really do look alike. Hold on. I got Cheyenne at the same shelter as you did, a couple of weeks ago.”
“There were two puppies from the same litter,” I said grudgingly. “I took the calm one. I guess you got the wild one.”
“That’s for sure,” Kenny said. “I was worried that Grace was going to kick us out of the obedience class.”
“You need to work with him yourself,” I said. “You can’t count on a class once a week to train him.”
“You’ve done well with Scout. You think you could help me with Cheyenne?” He looked sad. “I’ve really bonded with him, but if I don’t get him calmed down, I’m going to get kicked out of my apartment.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I think it’s more a difference in temperament.”
“Come on, we should set up a play date for them,” Kenny said. “You know, because they’re brothers.”
“I’m training Scout to be a service dog,” I said, finally playing that card. “He doesn’t need play dates.”
“Every dog needs some time to play,” Kenny said. He reached down to scratch behind Scout’s ear. “Don’t you, Scouty.” Scout shifted his head so he could lick Kenny’s hand. “See? He likes me.”
“I don’t know,” I said. I was jealous that my dog would be so friendly with Kenny when we hardly knew him, but that was part of the breed, I guess. I’d read somewhere that a golden was so friendly he’d hold the flashlight in his mouth for a burglar.
“Oh, come on, it’ll be fun,” Kenny said. “My community just put in a dog park. Why don’t you come home with me now?”
I was getting a vibe from Kenny that I need to squash right away. “I’m straight,” I said. “Not bi, not curious.”
“I kind of thought so, from the way you and Grace were getting along. Oh well, so you and I won’t play together. But can you still help me with Cheyenne?”
“Where do you live?” I asked. I didn’t travel too far from home because I was worried that I might have an attack and need the comfort and shelter of my own place.
“Two blocks from here, behind Hollywood City Hall.”
“I guess I can do that.” We exchanged cell numbers and email addresses, and then I stood up. This was already a longer conversation than I’d had with anyone other than Grace, and I was feeling nervous.
Kenny and Cheyenne trailed behind us. Then Kenny stopped in front of a BMW SUV. He popped the hatch and grabbed Cheyenne by the scruff of the neck. “Get in,” Kenny said. “We have to go home.”
The dog cowered in fear, his tail between his legs. “Please, Cheyenne?” Kenny said.
“Give me Cheyenne’s lead,” I said. Kenny did, and for a second I was back in the Army. I liked the discipline of the military, the way everybody had a job to do and everybody followed orders. I realized I’d missed that.
“Scout, sit,” I said, with my hand flat and parallel to the ground. He obeyed easily. I repeated the command for Cheyenne. He looked at me, then at Scout, then he sat. “Good boys,” I said.
I praised both of them and chucked them both under the ears.
“Scout, up.” I pointed to the ledge of the vehicle. We hadn’t practiced that command, but I hoped that Scout was smart enough to figure out what I wanted.
He was, and I grinned broadly as he jumped easily into the car. Before I could say anything to Cheyenne, he had jumped up beside Scout and curled next to him.
“You’re a magician,” Kenny said. He shook his head.
