“I don’t think so,” Steve said. He squatted down on his haunches so that he was eye level with Faith, who was sitting at my side waiting to see what was going to happen next.
“Nice to meet you, Faith.” Steve held out his hand for the Poodle to sniff. Once she’d done that and remained where she was, her demeanor relaxed and merely curious, he scratched her under the chin, then reached down with his fingers to lift the chain collar out of the thick hair at her throat. After a brief inspection, he let it fall back into place and rose to his feet.
“Faith may be lacking in formal obedience training, but the two of you are much too advanced for the beginner class. You have to understand, those classes are often chaotic. Despite the detailed instructions I send out ahead of time, most people arrive with the wrong equipment. If they have purchased a choke chain, it’s often the wrong size and almost certain to be on upside down.
“Not only that, but in the beginning, half the dogs are just running all over, dragging their owners around the room. Some are barking uncontrollably; a few are usually snarling. It’s not unheard of for me to have to break up a fight. The beginner classes tend to be as much about getting the dogs socialized as they are about learning specific exercises. Faith may not know how to heel perfectly yet, but she understands how to focus on you, which is the basis for everything that comes after. I see she can sit and stay. And I’ll bet she comes, too?”
He looked to me for confirmation and I nodded.
“In the basic twelve-week course, I’d be happy if half my graduates were as well behaved at the end as she is right now. So don’t think for a minute that you’re not ready to join the advanced group. Obviously you’ve done some good work with Faith already. As long as you’re dedicated and practice what we do here at home, I’m sure the two of you will catch up in no time.”
That made me feel better, and why wouldn’t it? Who doesn’t like to hear their dog’s behavior complimented? Of course, I didn’t dare tell Steve that Faith’s calm and obedient demeanor was due to the fact that she was a Standard Poodle, and had little to do with any exceptional training skills on my part.
Nor was there time for me to demur, as Steve was already looking past me toward the door. “Great,” he said. “Here come our other first-timers. Kelly and Paul are both recent graduates of the beginner class who got bit by the obedience bug and wanted to continue their dogs’ training. Excuse me while I go make them feel welcome.”
Kelly had an Akita at the end of her thick leather leash. The dog was brindle in color, large and powerful looking, and its small, dark eyes surveyed the room with disdain. Kelly was probably about my size, but she seemed small standing next to the Akita. Fleetingly, I found myself wondering whether she’d gotten such a large dog for protection.
It seemed like an odd thought, and after a moment, I realized why it had crossed my mind. All the other dogs in the room were at least somewhat attuned to their owners. Not the Akita in the doorway. His back was to Kelly and he was looking out and away, almost as if he thought he was on guard. She’d wrapped the leash around one of her hands and was gripping it firmly with the other. It looked like she might have trouble controlling the big dog. I wondered if that was why she’d decided upon obedience lessons.
In contrast to Kelly, who looked tense and hesitant, Paul walked into the room with a smile. A sable Cardigan Welsh Corgi with big ears and a long tail cavorted at his side. Paul, I noted, was careful to keep himself and his dog at least a leash length away from the pair that had preceded him.
Good call, I thought.
The group standing in the middle dispersed, scattering before the newcomers. Julie sidled over to stand beside me. Jack was staring hard at the Akita that was standing at the edge of the mats. When he lifted one side of his lip and exposed his teeth, Julie reprimanded him with a stern look.
“It looks like the gang’s all here,” she said under her breath. “Let the fireworks begin.”
3
You know me. I can never leave well enough alone.
“Fireworks?” I repeated. “Are you talking about Kelly or the Akita?”
Julie sent me a speculative glance. “What makes you think I’m not talking about Paul?”
Oh.
Stacey materialized beside us. As soon as the Akita had entered the room, she’d taken the precaution of lifting Bubbles up into her arms. Now the Papillon was cuddled snugly against her shoulder. “That Akita’s name is Boss. Kelly also calls him Boss Man sometimes. Not that anybody asked me, but that is not the sign of a healthy relationship.”
Nobody’d asked me either, but if they had, I probably would have agreed.
I gazed back at the doorway. “I thought Steve said those two were newcomers like me. How come you know them already?”
Julie looked like she might have replied, but Stacey beat her to it. “Paul and Kelly are new to the advanced class, but they started training in the beginner group over the winter. In the past, the two sessions haven’t mixed much, but the reason Paul started bringing Cora—that’s the Corgi, by the way—to class was because he has a great-aunt living at the Winston Pumpernill Nursing Home. You know, over in Greenwich?”
I nodded. Everyone knew Winston Pumpernill; it was a local landmark, a skilled nursing facility that had been around for more than forty years. The institution was located on thirty acres, the site of a former estate, in backcountry Greenwich. I’d driven past the large brick edifice many times but had never been inside.
“Anyway, Paul had read some article in a magazine about therapy dogs. You know, the ones that go to visit people in nursing homes or homes for the aged. It’s really a great thing. If I was going to be stuck in a home like that, I’d probably go stir-crazy without any canine companionship. Wouldn’t I, Bubbie?” Stacey paused to make chirping noises in Bubbles’s face. The Papillon responded by licking her on the mouth.
Julie grimaced slightly, but I think it was the baby talk that had offended her, not the shared kiss.
“Paul wanted to take Cora to go visit his aunt and some of the other residents in the home, but the article said there were guidelines for dogs and owners who wanted to get involved. It recommended that they start with basic obedience training, which was what brought Paul to class in the first place.”
I could see why Julie had said that Stacey liked to talk. She’d been working on this explanation for two or three minutes and had yet to answer my original question.
Luckily, when Stacey paused to take a breath, Julie stepped in to help out. “Long story short, Paul was so enthused about his idea that he got Steve interested in it, too. Steve mentioned it at one of our classes, and nearly half of us volunteered to go with him. It was right around Christmas, and I guess we were all feeling that ‘good will toward men’ vibe.”
“It was a real eye-opener for me,” said Stacey. “Before we went, I didn’t have any experience with nursing homes or managed care at all. It was more that I had the afternoon free and thought, what the heck? But you know what? The whole thing turned out to be a great experience.”
Julie nodded. “It was fun, and very satisfying in a way that perhaps none of us had expected. Kelly was one of the first to join the group. That was how we met her.”
“And Boss”—the name stuck in my throat for some reason—“does okay in a situation like that?”
“Well, he hasn’t done anything irredeemable yet. And Steve, thank God, keeps a pretty close eye on things.”
“I expected everyone to slack off when the holidays were over,” Stacey said. “But it hasn’t turned out that way at all. Instead, we have a group that gets together regularly on Sunday afternoons. The home has even written our visit into the weekly schedule. We’re right on the calendar and everything.”
“You might want to think about joining us,” said Julie.
It did sound like an interesting idea. “Faith and I are so new to all of this. Do you think she would qualify?”
“Don’t worry about that,” said
Stacey. “We’re not part of an official Therapy Dog program. This is just an informal arrangement Paul worked out with Winston Pumpernill. I bet you two would fit right in.”
“Okay people!” Steve stepped out into the middle of the mats and clapped his hands loudly. “Time to get to work. Social hour is over, even though I know that’s what most of you really came for.”
Laughter rippled around the room, and nobody bothered to disagree. They did, however, begin to take up their positions on the mats. Dogs and handlers formed a line that took up two sides of the large area. I assumed that that meant we were going to be working on heeling first. As I placed Faith next to my left leg and told her to sit, Minerva hurried Coach into the empty place behind me.
“Hi,” she said, “we haven’t met. I’m—”
The greeting was interrupted by her Standard Schnauzer, who leapt abruptly into the air. Steve had taken a red rubber ball out of his pocket and bounced it on the mat. Most of the dogs noticed; several dove for it, including Coach. He hit the end of his leash and fell to the ground. His owner, feet braced for impact, was barely thrown at all.
“I just wanted to see if anyone was paying attention,” Steve said with a grin.
“Idiot,” Minerva muttered under her breath.
“I’m Melanie,” I said as she hauled Coach back into position by her side. “And you’re Minerva, right?”
“It’s Minnie, please. The only one who calls me Minerva is Steve, and he only does it because he knows it annoys me.”
She unbuttoned her sweater and pulled it off, revealing a tight, low-cut T-shirt underneath. Minnie’s assets, hidden beneath the bulky sweater, were now admirably on display. Though it was only April, the heat in the basement was off and there was a distinct chill in the air. So I assumed she hadn’t stripped down because she was too warm.
When several men in the group gazed appreciatively in her direction, and Minnie shot a triumphant look at Steve, who was standing in the middle of the room and looking everywhere but at her, I figured my guess had been correct.
“Sure, they’re staring now,” Minnie said. “But wait until we get started working. It’ll heat up in a hurry. You’ll be sorry you wore a turtleneck.”
Frankly, with this much dissension going on, I was beginning to wonder whether I’d be sorry that I’d come at all.
Then Steve snapped out the command, “Forward!” and the line began to move. As one, the handlers instructed their dogs to “Heel” and strode out briskly. Each started left foot first to act as a visual cue, and I followed suit.
On the roster of basic obedience exercises, heeling was where Faith and I were the weakest. She’d certainly been trained to walk on a leash. But the kind of movement that was desirable in the conformation ring and the kind that was considered acceptable for obedience were two entirely different things.
For one thing, Poodles don’t sit down in the show ring. Not ever. Whereas other breeds might take a brief rest while they’re not being judged, the elaborate hairdo that Poodles wear when they’re shown requires a copious application of hair spray to keep it in place. Once the topknot and neck hair are set, the dog needs to remain standing with his head up, otherwise everything will be pulled apart.
Faith had never been asked to sit when we were moving before. In fact, she’d been heavily discouraged from doing so. And yet now I wanted her to sit down every time I stopped. This required an adjustment on her part that we were still in the process of making.
The second difference would be even harder for Faith to come to grips with. In the conformation ring, Poodles are supposed to show off. One of the most endearing attributes of the breed is its happy, fun-loving temperament, and Poodles are expected to display that attitude while being judged. They tend to play and cavort at the end of their leashes, hopefully displaying their correct movement, but also having a good time while doing so.
Not so in obedience. For the purposes of the heeling exercise, Faith was supposed to stick to my side like glue. She was meant to turn when I turned, to speed up and slow down when the length of my stride changed, and, in general, to make no decisions for herself. Faith was intelligent enough to understand what I wanted her to do, but at the same time, that very intelligence caused her to question the wisdom of the restrictions I’d placed upon her.
Poodle ownership is often a learning experience. For Poodle and owner, both.
I discovered, however, that Minnie had been right. After fifteen minutes of heeling, the room felt as though it had warmed up considerably. Faith was panting and I was barely managing not to do the same myself. When Steve finally called a halt to the proceedings, several of the handlers simply sat down on the mats where they’d stopped. Others crossed the room to the chairs where they’d left their things and dug out thermoses and bowls to give their dogs a drink.
Now that I knew what to expect, I thought, next week I’d come prepared.
In the meantime, Mark beckoned me over. He and Reggie were standing with Paul and Cora. The Cairn and the Corgi had both finished drinking from a stainless steel bowl Mark had brought with him. The two smaller dogs were now sacked out side by side on the floor.
“I didn’t think to bring water my first time either,” Mark said as Faith and I approached. He refilled the bowl and passed it over. I set it down on the mat and Faith drank gratefully while Mark performed the introductions.
“So you’re a newcomer, too,” Paul said. He had broad shoulders and a thatch of brown hair that fell down over his forehead. “I’m glad Kelly and I aren’t the only ones. The rest of these guys have been training together for so long it’s like they’re a private club or something.”
We both looked at Mark, who didn’t bother to disagree.
“I know you didn’t come through the beginner’s ranks here. Did you start over at Ox Ridge?”
“No, this is the first class we’ve ever been to. Obviously Faith and I are still a bit over our heads. But Steve seemed to think that since she’s a Poodle, we could probably manage to keep up.”
“Poodles.” Mark snorted derisively, but I could tell by the laughter in his eyes that he was only teasing. “Not much challenge to training one of those, is there?”
“Like Border Collies,” said Paul. “Or Dobermans. Those breeds are born trained, aren’t they?”
Mark retrieved the dog bowl from the mat and set it aside. “I wouldn’t try telling Julie that if I were you.”
“Trust me.” Paul laughed. “I wouldn’t try telling Julie anything.”
“How long a break do we get?” I asked Mark. Several of the handlers had left the room. I wondered whether they’d gone outside to grab a cigarette or to exercise their dogs.
“It varies depending on Steve’s mood. As you’ve probably seen, things are pretty free-form around here.”
“It’s different in the other class,” said Paul. “There’s much more discipline for the beginners. And, wow, nobody ever made us heel for fifteen minutes straight. That’s tough on a short-legged dog.”
Faith had already recovered from the exercise. She was sitting down but looking around alertly, waiting to see what came next. Paul’s slightly overweight Corgi, however, had flopped over on her side and was snoring softly.
“You’ll get used to the pace in no time,” said Mark. “And then when you actually go to show your dog, the exercises in the ring will seem like a breeze compared with what you’ve been doing here. I imagine that’s why Steve works us so hard.”
“That’s fine for most of you guys,” Paul replied. “But I don’t have any aspirations toward the show ring. All I want is for Cora to behave well at home and be perfectly reliable on our visits to Winston Pumpernill so that the staff keeps inviting us back.”
“Is there any question that they might not?” I asked, surprised. “Julie and Stacey were telling me about your therapy dog group earlier. They made it sound as though your visits had been very well received.”
“In general, they have. But there have been on
e or two minor…incidents.”
“Incidents?” Mark lifted a brow. “I don’t recall anything like that.”
“Well, of course, you haven’t been there every single time. And nothing was allowed to get totally out of hand. But as you can imagine with a place that has the kind of reputation Winston Pumpernill does, the staff is very protective of their residents. And there’s one person in our group—one of the most dedicated to the visits actually—who isn’t always entirely in control of her dog.”
As one, we turned and looked across the room to where Kelly and Boss were standing off by themselves waiting for the session to resume. Even standing quietly, the Akita was a study in leashed power. His head swung slowly from side to side, his small eyes taking in the activity in the room. He looked like a solid hundred pounds of barely contained energy simply waiting for his chance to show what he could do.
“Once it was just that he got away from her,” said Paul, “and chased a departing visitor’s car down the driveway. I imagine he must have given the driver quite a fright, but of course we were outside at the time, and none of the elderly residents was around. One of the administrators saw it happen, though, and it was the lack of control that bothered her more than anything else. It seemed pretty clear that if Boss got it into his head to do something, none of us would be able to stand in his way.
“The second episode happened last month in the sunroom. Boss was standing beside a woman in a wheelchair. She always likes seeing the bigger dogs, the ones she doesn’t have to lean over to pat. Minnie and Coach were there, too, and I guess the Schnauzer got a little too close for Boss’s comfort. He was feeling very protective of ‘his’ patient and growled at Coach.”
“What did the woman do?” I asked.
“She laughed it off,” Paul replied. “Said she liked her dogs the same way she liked her men, with a good dose of spunk. But I’m afraid my Aunt Mary wasn’t nearly as amused. She feels some responsibility, you see, since I was the one who started the program. She complained, and Steve had to step in and smooth things over. That’s why Kelly and Boss have joined this class. Steve told her if she didn’t continue with Boss’s training, she wouldn’t be allowed to go to Winston Pumpernill anymore.”
Raining Cats & Dogs (A Melanie Travis Mystery) Page 3
