Winnie went first. “Cora, answer quickly and with the first thing that comes to mind. I’m starting with a softball; what dog influenced you the most?”
“Oh God, you call that a softball?” Maggie asked. “You guys clearly don’t know the Cooper story.”
Cora hated talking about it and had only ever told her family and Maggie before. A sanitized, happy-ending way of telling the story didn’t exist—there was no happy ending for Cooper—so she kept it locked inside. Cooper was always with her, though, whether she chose to think about him or not.
She’d been twelve when she’d seen the pathetic dog chained to a doghouse when she was riding her bike to a friend’s. Even then, Cora’s love of animals was strong enough to make her get off her bike and approach the strange dog in an unfamiliar part of town. He was black and tan with ears that lay plastered to his head and a thin body hunched from a lifetime of tirades and beatings. He gave a few halfhearted barks as Cora approached, but she knew, instinctively, that the dog wanted her to get closer.
The moment she touched him, he curled into a ball on her feet and wagged the tip of his tail. They fell in love with each other in that instant. Cora tried to visit Cooper every day, stealing handfuls of food for him from her family’s stash and lavishing him with enough love to carry him over until her next visit. She never saw the dog’s owner, but she often noticed the blinds moving as she sat with him.
Cooper was the sweetest dog Cora had ever known. He blossomed each time he saw her, gradually transforming from a shy, untrusting shell of a dog to her devoted friend. His affections were always guarded, though, as if he had been so broken by the people in his life that he was afraid to make a misstep with Cora.
Cora pleaded with her parents to help Cooper, but there were no antichaining laws in effect at that time, and because he had shelter and a food bowl, the authorities were powerless. The plywood doghouse did nothing to protect Cooper from the rain, wind, or sweltering sun, though. Cora hated that she could feel his ribs when she petted him, and how he paced back and forth so much that he wore a deep path in the dirt, and the way he howled mournfully when she pedaled off after each visit.
She spent six months visiting him, and then one day he was gone. Cora ran to his doghouse, hoping he was curled up and sleeping inside, but he wasn’t there. She noticed broken beer bottles strewn in the dirt yard near the doghouse.
Someone opened a window and yelled at her, “Cooper is gone. Stop coming here.”
Cora was afraid of the shadowy figure but she needed answers. “Where is he? What happened?”
“What happened was that he was stupid. Now don’t come back here, kid.” The window slammed shut.
Cora detoured on the way back to her bike so she could investigate the area near the doghouse. Cooper’s dirt trail was packed with something dark. She ran to look at the collar still attached to his dog chain and saw that it was dried blood. She pedaled home crying, destroyed by what might have happened to her friend. The image of his empty chain never stopped haunting her, and it eventually propelled her into dog training, so that on her watch no other dogs would end up like Cooper.
Cora quickly explained Cooper’s story, and the mood in the room changed from jovial to heartbroken.
Winnie spoke up. “We all have a story like that in our past, right? That’s why we do what we do.”
“Use that passion to fuel your answer, C,” Maggie said. “Go for it.”
Cora nodded. “Um, my biggest canine influence has to be, uh...” She paused. “It’s, um, a dog from my past named Cooper. He had a tragic life, so I pledged to him that I would help every dog I could. It’s, uh, a way to honor him, I guess.”
“Okay, okay, that was good!” Maggie said encouragingly. “But you have to watch theuhs andums. Try to end with a confident summary; ‘I train in honor of the first dog I loved, Cooper.’ And smile. Fake it, baby.”
Vanessa raised her hand like a schoolgirl. “What would you say is the biggest challenge when helping people train their dogs?”
Cora smiled at Vanessa. “The biggest challenge for me is helping people understand that some training problems take time to address, like teaching a dog who has been pulling on its leash for years to stop dragging you down the street. I don’t carry a magic wand in my bag.”
“What do you hate about dog training?” Winnie asked.
“Driving. DC traffic is awful, and it really makes scheduling my clients tough.”
Darnell chuckled. “I see what you did there, boo. It’s like when people say their biggest weakness is they work too hard. What you really want to say is that some people are assholes, am I right?”
“I’m lucky, most of my clients are wonderful.”
“You’re really playing up the goody-goody thing. I like that.” He nodded at Cora approvingly.
“I’m sorry, that sounds like a cop-out,” Vanessa said with a concerned expression on her face. “Give us something real. What’s the toughest part of your job?”
Cora paused and chewed on the inside of her cheek, her mind drifting to Chanel and Blade and Hunter. “The toughest part is when I can’t help the dog. Sometimes, no matter how hard I try, it’s beyond my control. I hate that.”
The Hounds nodded and whispered between themselves.
“I need to jump in here for a second,” Maggie said. “Look at your body language, C. You are twisted up like a hypochondriac’s tissue. Can you ... unfurl a little?” She demonstrated by shaking her shoulders and arms.
Cora imitated her.
“Now please stand straight. Shoulders back, show off what your mama gave you. Watch your feet, you look a little pigeon-toed. If you don’t know what to do with your hands, do the newscaster thing; hold your hands together at belly button height, but don’t keep them there the whole time. Gesture naturally if you can. Andpleasedon’t cross your arms, you look super pissed when you do that.”
