Mike was always slow to return calls, but I assumed the promise of easy money from a trustworthy tenant would guarantee a quick response. I automatically started stressing that Andrew had gotten to him first.Whyhad I waited to make the call? And what was I going to do if Andrew beat me?
“Incoming!”
I heard the telltale jingle and before I could brace myself I was on the receiving end of four airborne paws to the stomach.
Andrew walked toward me smiling like what he’d just witnessed was adorable. He was actually wearing appropriate clothing for the cool October evening without a single muscle on display, in a distressed army green jacket, black T-shirt, and yet another version of those damn not-quite-sweatpants, also in black. His hair was slicked back like he’d just gotten out of the shower, which immediately made me think of Andrew taking a shower, which was my cue to refocus on my student.
“Dude, hello,” I said, trying to grab the leash that he was technically wearing but that wasn’t being put to use by hisperson. I finally managed to snag it and step on the midpoint of it, so Dude could stand and walk a few steps but couldn’t execute a full frontal assault on me.
“That’s a cool technique,” Andrew said, gesturing to the leash. “I’ll have to try it.”
“Yeah, but it requires that you actually hold the leash and that’s something you don’t seem to be able to do,” I said before I could stop myself. It had to be my last insult of the session since he was on my turf and I needed to be at least passably cordial to him.
“I do seem to have a problem with that.” He grinned at me, oblivious. “So what are we doing first?”
He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, then began the glare thing, but it didn’t have the intended effect because I was too focused on my canine client. I was going to train the hell out of his dog and prove that there was no excuse for Dude’s lawlessness.
“Couple of quick questions first. Have you taught him anything yet?” I already knew the answer to the question, but that was part of my plan. To point out that Dude’s pushy behavior was directly correlated to his lack of effort.
“Uh-huh.” Andrew nodded. “Check this out.”
He stomped the ground once and Dude immediately turned to him, grinning in that goofy boxer way.Damn it.Andrew had good instincts since he knew that the vibration would travel to where Dude was standing and he’d look to the source. I dropped the leash and moved my foot off so Dude could walk over to Andrew to collect a treat.
“He knows ‘sit.’ ” Andrew lowered his hand in front of Dude to just a few inches above the ground with his palm facing up,which caused Dude to lower his head to sniff and lick it. I kept my face neutral at the exaggerated cue. Andrew raised his hand slowly until it was about hip height. The dog remained standing.
Andrew repeated the motion a few times, then looked at me frowning. “He does it at home, I swear.”
“Hey, it’s normal for dogs to not respond in new environments. Don’t feel too bad about it,” I said. “So you’re obviously using hand signals, which is great. Now we just need to anchor the behavior to the cue. How do you let him know when he’s done the right thing, since you can’t use verbal praise?”
“I give him a thumbs-up,” Andrew said, then demonstrated, which caused Dude to wiggle and grin at him. He gave Dude a treat.
“Nice. So you did a little research?” I asked.
“Yeah, I watched a couple of YouTube videos. But honestly, I’ve been so busy that I’ve been slacking. Clearly.” He gestured to Dude, who was straining to sniff something just out of reach.
“Well, everything is about to change. For both of you. Let’s get started.”
I led them toward the open area in the center of the space as the nervousness drained away and my focus returned. It didn’t matter how I felt about Andrew, my job was to get through to Dude.
“You brought a bunch of treats with you?” I asked him.
“You know it. I read every word of the preclass paperwork you sent.” He patted his hip. “Cheese and hot dogs.”
“In yourpocket?”
He shrugged. “I go through pants pretty quickly, it’s a sweaty job. A little hot dog juice ain’t going to hurt.”
I tried to scrub the image of a sweaty, pants-less Andrewfrom my brain as it struck me that I hadn’t once seen any evidence of Andrew actually working out. For someone who looked like, well...that, I imagined that lifting cartoon-sized dumbbells would be his full-time job.
“Okay,” I said, straightening my back and summoning my teacher voice. “The first thing I want you to know is that we’re not going to be doing anything different with Dude than I do with the rest of my students. He’s a dog before he’s a deaf dog, with the same drives and desires as any other pup.” It was my normal speech for deaf-dog parents, but usually the phrase “drives and desires” didn’t have a double meaning. I hoped that he didn’t notice, but I saw the corner of his mouth kick up.
Despite that hiccup the rest of the session went shockingly well. Dude was a genius on four legs, and Andrew’s instincts were even better than I’d initially realized. I’d envisioned him joking his way through the class, but he seemed eager to absorb everything I said and was open to my gentle corrections to his technique. It took a while, but I got used to being Andrew’s teacher, and by the end of the session I managed to forget our history and just hang with him.
And Ilikedit.
We both seemed to, since the hour stretched to an hour and a half while we basked in the afterglow of a great class.
“So it’s my turn to train you next,” Andrew said, flashing his new and improved “sit” cue at Dude, who tucked into the position lightning fast. “You’re finally going to step into the Gib Zone.”
