by Dan Walsh
A few minutes later, Rita stuck her head in the doorway, her new dog right beside her. “Your dog’s here. Well not here, here. He’s on the property. Someone said they just saw Kim drive into the parking lot and get out of the car walking a dog on a leash.”
“Who’s Kim?” Amy asked.
“Kim’s the dog trainer at the shelter. She’s the one picks out all our dogs, makes sure we get one’s we can train. Anyway, she should be here any minute.”
“Thanks.” Amy stood up and looked out through the curtain. Trees blocked her view of the parking lot closest to the gate. Her eyes zoned in on the spot where the trees ended. She was so excited.
Here comes someone.
It was a female guard. False alarm.
A few minutes later, a dog came into view. She couldn’t see it clearly through the multiple cyclone fences, but it had to be him. He was on a leash. A moment later, Amy saw the woman holding the leash. Must be Kim. Her eyes locked back onto the dog. Whatever it was, it wasn’t a pit. It was taller and the hair was too long, and it was reddish-brown.
She couldn’t wait any longer. Maybe she could get a clearer view in the yard. She set the booklet down and headed that way.
Once outside, she quickly got to the best place to view the security gate. Sadly, the woman and the dog had disappeared. Then she realized, they were probably just inside going through security procedures. Sure enough, a few moments later both the dog and presumably Kim came out of the gate area and walked across the roadway toward her.
Now, with just one fence between them, Amy saw the dog clearly. She couldn’t believe her eyes. He was absolutely beautiful. Maybe a golden retriever, or mostly like one. He was almost prancing as he walked next to Kim, his head held up high, tail wagging. Several inmates were already outside working with their dogs. They all stopped to watch the scene unfold. Amy hurried toward the gate.
“Are you Kim?” Amy asked.
“I am. And you are…”
“My name’s Amy. I think that’s my dog. I mean, I’m the one who’s supposed to train him.”
Kim unlatched then opened the gate. She was about to walk through, but Finley got a confused look on his face as he peered inside. Suddenly, he sat down. “What’s the matter, boy? It’s okay,” she said softly. “Everything’s okay.”
Amy noticed that Kim didn’t drag him through the gate. Instead, she bent down and patted his head, left her arm around his shoulder then looked at Amy.
“Would you do me a favor?” Kim asked. “Could you come here, but stay a few feet away from us, on the other side of the gate? I want him to see you without a fence between you. Then bend down like I am, hold out your hand and call his name in a gentle, happy voice.”
Amy did what Kim had asked, except for the last part. “I don’t know his name.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. It’s Finley.”
“Finley,” she repeated. When she did, his ears perked up and he looked right at her. What a perfect name for this dog, she thought. She already loved him completely. “Hey Finley. How are you? You are such a beautiful dog.” She held out her hand. “Here Finley.”
Finley stopped looking around and stopped smelling all the smells floating in the air. He focused on the face of the young woman who just called him, the woman Kim had been talking to. He didn’t understand most of what she’d said, except his name, but he liked the way she said it. She had a kind face and nice eyes. He liked the look in her eyes.
“What do you think, Finley?” Kim said, “Want to meet Amy?” Kim stood, so Finley did, too.
“Finley, stay. Stay right here.” Still holding the leash, Kim took a few steps in front of Finley and held out her hand toward Amy. “Here, take these. They’re treats. A kind Finley loves. You’ll be giving out lots of treats during your training.”
“I read about that,” Amy said. “Positive reinforcement, right?”
“Yes. Good. You’ve been reading up on it. What I want you to do is stay put and hold out a treat to him. He’ll want to come, even if he’s shy at first. I’ll encourage him to come to you, too. I think he’s starting to trust me. After he takes the treat, back up a little bit. When he comes, give him another treat. Then say the word, Good. Then give him another treat and add the word Come.”
“Won’t that confuse him? If I’m saying come after he’s already done it?”
“It might seem like that,” Kim said, “but that’s not how dogs think. He already knows come a little. But doing this will strengthen his association with the word. The treats tell him that come is a good thing, especially coming to you. He’s been shuffled around a lot lately and has some fear issues. For the first few days, I really want you to overdose him on treats. Give them to him for everything he does right or anytime he does anything you ask. And talk to him just the way you did now.”
“Okay,” Amy said. “Should we try it now?”
“Sure.”
“You mentioned overdosing him on treats. Do we have these treats in here somewhere?”
“No. You do have treats for training in there. I’m sure Bridget or Brenda will show you where. They’re good ones, but these are better. Here, I have a whole baggie full of them in my jacket pocket. They’re really for Finley. I always like to use high-end treats when I’m working with a dog who’s been having a hard time.”
“Has he been having a hard time? He seems pretty upbeat right now.”
“He does. That’s because he just got done having a car ride. It’s obvious he loves car rides. And having these treats so close to his nose are certainly helping. But you should have seen him this morning. Really, the last few weeks. He was going through some serious doggie depression.”
“Aww, that’s so sad.”
“I know. But the way he’s acting right now is a whole lot more like he was when I first met him, before his owner dropped him off. I’d love to keep this momentum going. He might struggle a little bit after I go, but I’m thinking with all the attention you’re going to be able to give him, plus a steady dose of treats, I’m hoping he’ll pull out of his depression completely.”
Finley watched this exchange between Kim and this new woman. The only word he understood was come. But he was confused. They kept saying it, over and over, but they weren’t asking him to come. Were they telling each other to come? Couldn’t be that, because neither one of them moved. He could certainly smell those treats, those wonderful treats. First in Kim’s hand then in the other woman’s hand. He still didn’t know her name.
What was happening now?
Kim handed the new woman his leash and was stepping back behind him. She had also given the new woman all the treats. He could see loose ones in her hand and she was holding a whole bag full of them.
The woman held out one to him. It looked and smelled so good.
He looked up into her face. She was smiling. And she was holding out that treat. And Kim had handed her the leash. Kim must be okay with him going to her.
So he did. She gave him the treat, and he ate it. Then she gave him another, and another. All the while, saying Come. And saying his name in such a pleasant voice. And patting his head and rubbing his shoulders.
First, the car ride. And now this.
He looked at Kim. Kim wasn’t coming. She was standing still. She was saying something to the woman. Now she was talking to him. She was saying a word he understood, goodbye. And waving goodbye. Now she turned and started walking away.
Finley couldn’t help himself, he began to pull and whine. He liked Kim. A lot.
Now Kim was leaving him at this new place. He kept watching her as she walked away. Several times she waved to him but kept walking toward the car. He thought about being sad, but this new woman was being so nice.
She handed him another treat and began walking toward some tables, gently calling his name. He glanced around the yard and noticed other dogs on leashes with other women. None of them seemed aggressive. He sent calming signals just to be safe as he followed this new woman.
22
Chris
Chris pulled into the parking lot of the Summerville Golf and Country Club in one of the spaces near the metal maintenance building. He’d gotten the job. Tom, the maintenance manager, had called him a few days ago saying his paperwork had come in and everything looked good. He was to report in today, bright and early at 6am.
Besides the money, it would be such a relief not to have so much time on his hands. Time, especially time alone, wasn’t his friend. Being around people didn’t help his mental state much, either. He always felt an extra level of tension being around people he didn’t know.
That’s why this job seemed like a perfect fit. Tom said he’d mostly be operating the ride-on lawnmower. At the start of the day, there’d be a little interaction with the other facility workers but, after that, he’d mainly be seeing people from a distance. Golfers mostly. The main thing was to do his best to stay out of their way.
This suited Chris just fine.
He got out of the car, leaning heavily on the door to steady himself. He was still pretty weak on that side. It wasn’t just because of the prosthetic limb, though that was a good part of it. The muscles affected by his shrapnel wounds were mostly on that side, too, and still on the mend. His physical therapist assured him that one day getting in and out of a car or up and down from a chair would come as easily as it used to. One day.
Once he got his bearings, he set out across the small parking lot toward the office door in the maintenance building. Inside the garage, a brownish-blonde haired guy checked out the engine on a ride-on mower. A much larger rig sat in the corner. More like a big tractor hooked to some kind of huge mowing apparatus.
The guy noticed Chris and straightened up. “Are you Chris?”
“I am.”
“Tom told me to keep an eye out for you. I’m Jed. I do all the maintenance on the yard equipment and golf carts. I’m almost ready for you. Go on in there to Tom’s office. He’s got some things for you to read and sign. When you’re done with him, come on out here and I’ll show you how to work this mower.”
“Great,” Chris said. “I’ll do that.” He walked into the side entrance of Tom’s office through the garage area.
Tom was sitting behind his desk, tapping away on his keyboard. He stopped and looked up. “Chris, there you are.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “Right on time. Good.” He handed Chris an off-white card. “This is your timecard. It’s pretty straightforward.” He stood up and walked back through the door Chris had come in. “Follow me.”
Chris did. They walked down to the corner of that same wall. Chris saw a gray timecard machine. Hanging next to it, a metal rack containing about eight or ten cards just like the one in his hand.
Tom took a few minutes, explained the procedures. “Any questions?”
“Not about this. Just about the work. I know I’m supposed to mow. Where do you want me to start?”
“Jed will show you all that. But first, I have something I need you to read for me, then a paper for you to sign. It’s the safety section of the employee manual. It’s back on my desk.” They walked back into his office and Tom sat in his chair. Chris sat in one of the chairs in front of his desk.
“It’s sitting there on the edge of the desk,” Tom said. “Every employee has to read it before they start, then sign a form saying they did. I put a post-it by the right chapter. Shouldn’t take but five or ten minutes. You can sit right there, if you want, and I’ll keep answering these emails. When you’re done, just sign that sheet next to it.”
“Sure.” Chris leaned forward and picked up the booklet.
After reading the safety section Tom had marked, he signed the form. “All set,” he said.
Tom looked up again. “Good. I’ll bring you out to Jed. He’ll train you on the mowers. Right now, we’re just going to have you mow the wide open spaces, no-frills or tight spots. Until you get real familiar with how the mower works. We’ll start you off on the smaller mower, the one we use with the rough and general areas. After a while, he’ll teach you how to use the big guy. You probably saw it there in the corner. We use that on the fairways. Its’ a bit more complex. But let’s face it, we’re talking mowing grass here, not rocket science. Jed can help you with all that. He did it his first two years here.”
“Sounds great,” Chris said. “And thanks again for giving me the job. I really needed it.” He held out his hand.
Tom shook it. “Glad we could work it out. Jed’s also going to give you a walkie-talkie. Don’t hesitate to buzz me if you run into a snag.”
Chris walked over to the mower. As he did, Jed was screwing the cap back on something.
“Why don’t you hop up in the seat there, and we’ll get started,” Jed said. “There’s all kinds of things about this mower I’ll need to show you eventually. But I’m thinking since we’re a little backed up on our mowing, I’ll just go over the basics. I’ll tell you enough so that you can operate everything you need to get going.”
“And I guess, where you want me to mow,” Chris said.
“Right. That part’ll be easy. We do it in a certain order, but it’s all gotta get mowed, and often. We don’t mow like most people do, or most businesses. They wait until the grass gets too long. Golf courses are all about the grass being a certain height. There’s one height for the rough, another height for the fairway, another for the greens. We mow to keep everything at a certain height. On this guy, you’ll just be mowing what we call the rough. Mostly wide-open spaces. See that pad?” He pointed to a notebook resting in a wire mesh sleeve.
Chris nodded.
“Take it out and start flipping through the pages.”
Chris did. They were thick like cardboard and laminated. Each page was the layout of a different hole on the golf course.
“See how they’re color-coded? Each color is for a different height. The orange is for the rough, where you’ll be mowing. At first, you’ll need to look at this often. After a while, it’ll all be in your head. Besides that, the grass is already pretty close to its proper height, so you can tell which areas are which. Now let’s go through how to operate the mower.”
He took Chris through all the different steps. It was more complicated than driving a car, but not much. When Jed got to explaining about the foot pedals, he stopped a moment.
“I guess I need to ask, do you have any limitations here?” He pointed to Chris’s prosthetic limb.
“Some, I guess,” Chris said. “But I’m getting stronger all the time with it. How often do I have to use that left pedal?”
“Not constantly. Just when you have to shift gears. It requires more pressure than your average gas pedal on a car.”
“Like driving a stick shift, right?” Chris said.
“Sort of. But there’s no traffic lights out here, no stop signs. And barely any traffic. You have to use the pedal sometimes and, when you do, you’ll have to be able to use it with your left foot. But there should be long periods of time when you’ll get it in the right gear and just leave it there as you mow.”
“I guess we’ll have to give it a try,” Chris said, “see if I can do it. I’m pretty sure I can.”
“Well, I’ll grease it real good. If that doesn’t work, I suppose we can make some kind of rig that would let you push down on it with your left hand.”
Chris hoped he didn’t have to do that, but he was happy to see how eager Jed was to make it work.
Jed went on with his talk, explained all about shifting gears and using the brakes. About all the safety features for lowering the mower blades and backing up. When it seemed like he was all done explaining things, he stepped back out of the way. Chris thought he was going to tell him to turn the key on.
Instead he said, “So how’d you lose the leg anyway? Tom didn’t mention it, just that it was in Afghanistan. I served there in 2008.”
&n
bsp; “That was a while ago.” Chris figured Jed was maybe five years older than he was. Maybe a little more.
“A lifetime ago,” Jed said. Then he shifted into that stare Chris instantly recognized. “And sometimes, it feels like yesterday.” He shook his head, broke the stare and focused on Chris again. “We were fighting in the mountains, the Korengal Valley. Heard of it?”
“Yeah. We were far from there, though. Much flatter ground, in Helmand Province near Marjah.”
“Guarding the poppy fields?” Jed said.
That made Chris laugh for some reason. “You could say that. That’s where I lost this.” He pointed to his leg. “I was working a minesweeper out in front. It didn’t make a peep. Walking through a trail in a poppy field, stepped right on a plastic mine, and that was that. You suffer any injuries in Korengal?”
Jed sighed. Looked away a moment, then looked back. “Just in here,” he said, pointing to his head.
Chris instantly understood.
23
Jed continued to explain the finer points of the mower operation to Chris, then had Chris ride it slowly out to a large patch of grass near the maintenance building. There, Chris got a chance to put everything he’d learned into action. After a few bumpy moments, he was soon going back and forth in mostly straight lines and turning fairly well.
After Jed was satisfied Chris could depress the clutch pedal with his prosthetic leg, he turned him loose to begin mowing the highest level of grass, the rough surrounding the nearby ninth hole. When he’d finished, Jed told him to keep mowing the rough on as many of the back nine holes as he could before lunch.
That’s how Chris spent his morning. And he kinda liked it. He’d mowed the grass in his own yard as a kid growing up, but always with a push mower. This felt more like riding a big, powerful go-kart. Hardly felt like work at all.
More than enjoying the go-kart connection, he enjoyed even more having his mind engaged in something productive. And the scenery was certainly pleasant. Like riding around in a theme park. His instructions were to avoid all the water hazards and sand traps for now. After he had a few more days mastering the machine, they’d trust him with areas that required more skill.
