“Sitz,” he says calmly.
Neptune sits.
“Bleib.”
Neptune stays, tail thumping once against the sand but otherwise perfectly still.
Aiden glances back at me briefly, then looks at Neptune again. “Bei Fuß.”
Neptune stands and moves to his side, head lifted, posture proud.
Aiden lets out a quiet breath, satisfaction settling into his shoulders as he finally relaxes. He looks at me, a small smile tugging at his lips.
“He’s trained.”
“And he is fluent in German.”
I look down at Neptune, who’s standing next to Aiden, chest puffed out, and ears alert.
“Well,” I mutter, mostly to myself, “that explains why he side-eyes me like I’m underqualified.”
Aiden laughs again, softer this time, and something in his expression shifts to something thoughtful now.
“Not many people train their dogs like that.”
I swallow, nodding. “Yeah. I’ve been thinking the same thing.”
Neptune breaks position then, trotting over to me and leaning his weight against my legs, reminding me he’s here now. I rest my hand on his head, grounding myself.
“Whatever happened to his previous owner, he’s lucky he found his human in you.”
I glance up at him. “Yeah,” I say. “We both are.”
The dogs resume their play, the waves crash softly behind us, and the wind carries its clean, salty air between us.
After a few minutes, Aiden turns to me.
“May I?” he asks.
Before I can answer, he gently takes the ball launcher from my hand. Then he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a very worn tennis ball. He waits until both dogs notice, their attention snapping to him instantly.
“Sitz,” he says calmly.
Immediately, both Neptune and Skye sit.
“Bleib.”
They freeze in place, eyes bright, bodies vibrating with anticipation.
Aiden steps forward, shoulders loose, arm pulling back with the ease of someone who’s done this several times before. He throws both balls, one after the other, with the smooth accuracy of a professional pitcher.
The balls sail through the air, but the dogs don’t move. I stare at them, stunned.
“Lauf,” Aiden says, and they explode into motion, tearing down the beach as fast as they possibly can, sand flying everywhere. I laugh under my breath, tracking them as they sprint toward their targets.
And then, somehow, even more surprising than the sprint itself, they both turn around, running straight back to Aiden.
Neptune drops his ball at Aiden’s feet. Skye follows suit, tail wagging furiously as she delivers hers.
