Belle's Challenge

by Connie Gotsch

  The lady pushed her chair away from the table, strolled over to us, and smiled at everyone. “Hello, my name is Guadalupe Sanchez. I’m with Pet Partners, and we register dogs to visit hospitals and nursing homes. They can also go to schools and libraries once they have passed our evaluation. There are many kinds of therapy you can do.” She paused, looking at each dog and its owner. “The test is in two parts. First, we see how well the dog obeys you. Then we see how he reacts to unusual things. Things you might see in a hospital.” Her words rose and fell in a way that resembled singing. Silver bracelets sparkled on her wrists, and her red nails flashed as she lifted her hand. “We have a lot to do, so let’s get started.”

  Darcy’s electric odor grew stronger. Despite how easy this test would be, my heart thumped, and I tingled from my paws to my nose. I must do well for her.

  Guadalupe Sanchez called the border collie up first. The dog came, sat, and stayed.

  The dachshund plopped on her butt and sat.

  “Come, Gretchen,” her mistress called. Gretchen’s tail swept the tile, but she didn’t budge.

  “Come, Gretchen.”

  With a bark, Gretchen trotted to a corner away from the crowd. “Not with all these people around,” she said.

  “She may need some more work before we can register her,” Guadalupe said. Turning from Gretchen, she smiled at me. “Let’s see what you can do, you cute little fox face.”

  Darcy handed Buster’s leash to Guadalupe. Margaret rose, and Darcy and she walked with me.

  “Belle, heel,” Darcy commanded.

  I fell in step with her. Just as I thought, easy as snapping a treat from the air.

  Darcy led me to the far end of the room and hooked me up to a very long leash before unhooking my leash. “Belle, stay.”

  Since she didn’t tell me to sit, I stood, eyes never leaving her.

  Darcy walked back to where Guadalupe stood. “Belle, come.”

  I hustled over.

  “Lie down,” Darcy said.

  Nothing to this. Holy bones. I’d done harder stuff my second week of agility training.

  Margaret took a turn asking me to come, sit and stay. Guadalupe nodded.

  “All right. How about Buster?”

  Tongue lolling, Buster rollicked beside Darcy as she walked him.

  “Buster, sit,” she commanded.

  He thudded onto his haunches and polished the floor with his tail.

  Guadalupe smiled.

  Buster’s back end wiggled. Someone tittered. “He wags his whole self,” said a man in jeans, a flannel shirt and cowboy hat. His coppery face broke into a grin.

  “Buster, lie down,” Darcy ordered.

  He flopped to the floor and sprawled on his side, tail beating the wall.

  “Stay.” Darcy walked away from him.

  Rolling into a sit, Buster watched her, head cocked and jaws open in a silent guffaw.

  “Buster, come,” Darcy called from near me.

  Buster hopped up, trotted to her and plopped at her feet. Saliva dripped from his tongue as he looked up at her.

  “What a clown.” Guadalupe bent and scratched Buster’s ears. “You’re such a happy boy. You’ll be great with kids.”

  I felt a lurch of something in my stomach, not jealousy, but sadness maybe. Or a wish that I could be as cheerful as Buster. Settling beside Darcy, I put my head on my paws.

  When all the dogs had finished showing their obedience skills, a couple, including the Dachshund, left the room and did not return.

  Guadalupe then pointed to a handler and her dog, an English bulldog named Jack, and the three of them went into a small room. I looked at Buster. “What’s that about?”

  He cocked his head, then relaxed, the dog version of a shrug.

  Licking my chops, I pointed my ears toward the door to the small room and listened, but I couldn’t hear anything.

  I waited patiently as other handlers took their dogs in. A couple of the dogs burst into loud barks. One growled. The door then opened, and they came out with straight lipped owners. Before I could ask what happened, they left.

  I began to pant. Whatever went on in that room didn’t seem pleasant. On the other paw, the dogs who didn’t bark or yelp came out as calm as they went in. Still, I sensed something I knew little about lurked behind that door. Ears erect, I waited for my turn with a mixture of excitement and fear. Had we practiced what we needed to know for this test?

  The door opened, and Guadalupe came out behind a golden retriever, who ambled beside his handler, tail swaying in a lazy arc.

  “Let’s have Buster.” She beckoned to him.

  The border collie’s owners took my leash so Buster, Margaret and Darcy could go into the little room.

  “Good luck,” I said, wondering how he’d do.

  He responded with a quick wag and disappeared into the room. The door closed.

  Darcy and Margaret’s smells faded, and the sharp burning odor of the stranger holding me replaced them. I sneezed and stepped as far away from her as I could. No one but Darcy, Margaret or Bob had ever held my leash. A shiver ran down my spine, and fear formed an icicle in my stomach as the unfamiliar hand hung onto me. Opening my mouth, I panted.

  I couldn’t tell what was happening with Buster. Was he all right? Was he scared? How could I help him if he was?

  Curling up my nose, I searched for his scent. It drifted through a crack under the door - mud, turtles, lily pads; the normal smell of a happy water dog.

  The ice in my stomach thawed. Giving my face a lick, I forced myself to relax. I’d coped with frightening stuff before. How about having to ride that flea-bitten teeter totter obstacle on the dog agility course? Or the time I had to keep my first owner, the vicious man I called Bonehead, from hurting Darcy?

  The door opened. Buster lolloped out, tail waving like a banner.

  Thank you, dog heaven.

  Darcy, Margaret, and Guadalupe followed, chortling.

  “Buster’s a charmer.” Guadalupe rubbed Buster’s head. “He’ll be a hit at the library.” She smiled at me. “Let’s see Belle now.”

  I touched noses with Buster. “What’s that test like?”

  He cocked his head and relaxed. “They try to make you react to strange stuff. No big dog pile. This test has turned out to be more fun than I thought it would be.”

  Try to make me react? What did he mean? Ears up, I marched with Darcy and Margaret into the smaller room.

  Guadalupe put on a floppy hat and shuffled toward me, leaning on a long stick.

  “Oh, nice doggie,” she squealed.

  My ears hurt, so I shut out her sound, as I did with noisy crowds at agility meets.

  Guadalupe pulled off the hat. Dropping to my haunches, I waited to see what she would do next.

  She walked around me with the long stick. A memory of Bonehead exploded into my mind. He used to beat me with sticks. Swallowing the recollection and a desire to run, I held still for Darcy’s sake. She would not have brought me to a place where someone would beat me. Still, I kept my eyes on the stick, ready to dodge if Guadalupe hit me.

  Putting down the stick, she placed a treat in front of me.

  Well, dog biscuits. A nice surprise. Wagging my tail, I lifted my gaze to Darcy’s, hoping she’d let me take it.

  “Okay,” she smiled.

  Before I could pick it up, a hand in a leather glove snatched it. Under the aroma of tanned hide, I smelled Guadalupe’s roasted chili scent.

  Fleas on you, lady. If my mama hadn’t taught me a long time ago that it was wrong to bite, I’d have snatched the biscuit out of her fingers.

  Laughing, she tossed the treat back to me. “Good dog. You don’t have any food aggression.”

  Darcy patted my head. “Okay, you can have it this time.”

  I snapped the t
reat off the floor and swallowed it in two gulps. When I finished, Guadalupe pinched my ears, rubbed my hair the wrong way, and grasped my tail.

  I beg your pardon. Plopping into a sit, I broke her grip on me.

  She walked to a corner and pushed a rolling chair in my direction. Rabid cats! What was this? Could it run me over?

  Fear welled in my stomach, the kind I remembered when I rode the horrible teeter totter on an agility course. The landing always rattled my bones. I got through the experience by breathing deep.

  The chair came closer. My gaze fastened on it. I took a deep breath and held still.

  Guadalupe stopped the chair about a dog length from me. Hopping into it, she rolled herself around me. I could feel a breeze ruffling my coat. She stopped within nose length and reached out to pat me.

  I let her, because this project meant so much to Darcy.

  “Nice doggie. Nice Belle.” Guadalupe scratched my ears with a light hand.

  That did feel good. I watched her face and took a good sniff of her. She still smelled like chilies, peppery but not angry peppery. Buster’s comment drifted into my mind. Guadalupe had tried to get me to react to these new things. She’d almost succeeded, but not quite. Proud of myself, I lifted my tail.

  Her fingers massaged the spot on the top of my head that always itched but that I could never reach.

  All right, dog heaven. I forgive you for whatever you’ve been trying to do.

  My head dropped into her lap before I realized it. She ran her fingers down my spine.

  Stretching my neck, I sniffed her rolling chair. Rubber and metal. Nothing more. Still not something I’d want to hit me, but I could avoid a collision if I kept alert like in the agility ring. I could dodge canes and rolling chairs and shut out screechy voices. If danger lurked, I could handle it as long as I stayed calm.

  Guadalupe climbed out of the chair and rolled it against the wall.

  “All right,” she said, giving me a final pat and smiling at Darcy and Margaret. “I’m going to give Belle a pass. She’s obviously never seen a wheelchair before, but she didn’t go ballistic about it.

  “She’s very quiet. You might want to put her therapy dog vest on and take her to places. Get her used to different environments. She’ll learn her job.”

  I cocked my head. Learn the job? What more was there to learn? All I had to do was sit still when crazy things happened around me. I already showed I could do that.

  “Okay,” said Darcy. “What about Buster?”

  Guadalupe chuckled deep and warm. “I have the feeling you could drop him anywhere and he’d be mellow.”

  “You think he might make the better therapy dog?’ Margaret flicked some of my hair off her slacks.

  “He might just have that kind of personality.” Guadalupe glanced at me. “But Belle’s quick. Once she had a chance to sniff the wheelchair, she adapted to it. She’ll probably do all right.”

  Probably? Was she trying to insult me? I’d be just as good at being a therapy dog as I was at anything else I tried. In my own way, I had plenty of personality.

  And, when it came to real work, Buster curled up under a tree and went to sleep. Why couldn’t Guadalupe see that? Flattening my ears, I gave her my best ‘You’re a flea brain’ expression.

  She laughed.

  Chapter 7

  New Skills

  The next sun time, which Darcy called Saturday, she strapped on my new green therapy dog vest and hooked my leash to my collar.

  Margaret took Buster’s line, and we all walked down the street under a sky as gray as the strips of metal I sometimes saw lying around the farm where I lived when I was a puppy. The air’s coolness felt wonderful, and I trotted, tail high.

  We rounded a few corners, passed Darcy’s school, and spotted the dens that Darcy called downtown. Their shapes reminded me of treat boxes as odors drifted from them: soap that set me and Buster sneezing, leather, cloth, and a chocolaty aroma tinged with peppermint.

  Buster touched my nose. “The ice cream shop with that nice lady, Josie. Maybe she’ll give us a dish full if we pant.”

  Grinning at Darcy, Margaret paused in front of the ice cream shop.

  Darcy grinned back and slowed her step. “How about some hot chocolate, Mom?”

  * * *

  We walked off the sidewalk and through a small gate, where umbrella tables clustered in front of the shop. The scent of cinnamon cookies burst from the open door.

  “Mmmm,” Darcy breathed in as she found a chair and sat down. But as Buster and I licked our chops and drooled, the odor swirled into a stench.

  Swiveling my head, I saw Emily scrambling up from the table next to ours. She stank of pepper.

  Katherine watched her sister, spoon poised above her dish of butterscotch ice cream.

  Hands on her hips, Emily stomped up to Darcy. “What are those dogs doing here? Don’t you know having a dog in a restaurant is illegal?”

  Settling opposite Darcy, Margaret smiled at Emily, though her lily of the valley scent masked the burned ginger snap odor of annoyance. “There is nothing wrong with having a dog outside of a restaurant, Emily. Belle and Buster are well trained. They won’t bother you.”

  Ignoring Margaret, Emily wrinkled her nose at Darcy. “Those mutts of yours bite. They snapped at me the day I sprained my ankle.” Her voice bounced off the shop’s big window.

  Something clattered, and I looked through the glass to the inside of the store. Josie had set a tray of cookies on a table behind the counter. Hands on her hips, she watched Emily. Josie must be like Margaret, good at spotting trouble.

  “You kicked at Belle and Buster, Emily, and they did not bite you,” Darcy retorted. “So just shut up.”

  Margaret’s brows arched, and she smelled peppery.

  Josie hustled to the door, a cookie in each hand. Stepping outside, she pursed her lips and stared at Emily, then glanced at the table where Katherine sat, jaw slack and eyes wide.

  With a tiny gasp, Katherine looked back at Josie.

  Josie fixed an eye on Emily. “Go eat, Emily. Dogs are always welcome on my porch, and you know it.”

  Darcy and Margaret smiled.

  For about as long as it takes to snatch a treat from the air, Emily glared at Josie.

  Frowning, Josie folded her arms.

  Lowering her gaze, Emily slouched back to her table and swallowed her ice cream in two bites. “Come on, Katherine, let’s motor. You have to practice reading yet today.”

  “Yuck.” Katherine screwed her mouth down.

  Josie’s frown deepened.

  Emily shrugged. “Well, I gotta practice the piano, so there.” Jamming her hands into her jacket pockets, she pouted.

  Katherine stuffed ice cream into her mouth until her cheeks bulged like a squirrel’s.

  “Don’t choke,” Emily sighed. “Come on, let’s go.” She touched Katherine on the shoulder.

  The sisters headed for the sidewalk.

  As they passed us, Katherine patted Buster’s nose and reached for my neck. Because she was nice, I let her pet me, but I wished she and Emily had not come here. Emily’s perfume burned my nose, and her accusation that I’d bitten her made me feel as if a porcupine bristled in my stomach.

  “Katherine, don’t touch that dog.” Emily dragged the younger girl to the street.

  I stared after her, then looked at Buster. “Is this the way all people treated therapy dogs?”

  “I doubt it,” Buster let his tongue loll. “Be patient, Belle. Emily’s only one human. Katherine’s nice, isn’t she?”

  “Yes, but I’m not sure I want to be out here with all these people clattering around me. Who knows who’s friendly or who isn’t?”

  “You’re going to have to figure out how to tell fast, Belle.”

  I sighed. “I’m not sure I want to.” Maybe t
his job was going to be more difficult than I’d imagined.

  Before Buster could answer, Josie smiled at us and reached into her apron pocket. “I think I might have something for you here.”

  Dismissing Emily and Katherine, we dropped onto our haunches, ears up, heads cocked, eyes on the cookies. Drool dribbled out of Buster’s jaws, and I licked my muzzle.

  Stooping, Josie held a cookie out to each of us. Buster snatched his with a smack.

  Josie chuckled. “Don’t swallow my hand.”

  I slid my mouth next to her fingers and lifted my cookie, brushing my whiskers against her thumb in thanks.

  Josie patted my head. “Don’t you have nice manners.”

  Right. I could still do a lot of things better than Buster. I looked down my nose at him.

  He licked crumbs off the floor. I wasn’t sure he saw my look.

  Josie rubbed our necks. “Therapy dogs are wonderful,” she said. “One came around when I was in the hospital, and it was nice to see him.”

  “We’re not going into hospitals.” Darcy explained about the library reading program.

  Josie listened, pressing one finger against her cheek as Darcy spoke. When Darcy finished, Josie said, “That might be a way to get Katherine to enjoy books. She can understand what she reads, but she reads only when she has to, and she doesn’t read well aloud.”

  “Perhaps the program could be good for her,” Margaret nodded. “She seems to like dogs.”

  “I think those kids would like a lot of things if...” Josie took a quick breath. To herself she muttered, “If their parents would give them some discipline. Especially their mother.”

  I stared at Josie. Emily needed discipline? I couldn’t imagine life without discipline. That made it possible for me to do dog agility. Emily was missing a bone pile of good stuff.

  Josie faced Darcy and Margaret. “I keep the kids after school. Maybe I’ll send Katherine and Emily to the library when the therapy dogs are there.” She pulled an order pad out of her apron pocket. “What’ll you have today?”

  “Hot chocolate.” Margaret reached for her purse. “And how about a couple of those cinnamon cookies for us?”