“He fetched.”
“Yes, he did. Ask him for it.”
“What?”
“Tell him to give you the ball. Crouch down, hold out your hand and tell him to give you the ball.”
Simon crouched, held out his hand. “Give me—” Jaws leaped into his lap, nearly bowling Simon over, and rapped his ball-carrying mouth into his face.
“Tell him ‘off,’ ” Fiona instructed, and had to bite the inside of her cheek as obviously, from his expression, Simon Doyle didn’t see the humor. “Set him down on his rump. Hold him down, gently, and take the ball away. When you’ve got the ball, say,
Simon did as he was told, though it was easier said than done with a dog that could wiggle like a wet worm.
“There, he’s successfully fetched and returned. You’ll use small bits of food and lavish praise, the same commands, over and over again. He’ll catch on.”
“Tricks are great, but I’m really more interested in teaching him not to destroy my house.” He shot a bitter look at the mangled headrest. “Or my truck.”
“Following any command is a discipline. He’ll learn to do what you ask, if you train him with play. He wants to play—he wants to play with you. Reward him, with play, and with food, with praise and affection, and he’ll learn to respect the rules of the house. He wants to please you,” she added when the pup rolled over to expose his belly. “He loves you.”
“Then he’s an easy target since we’ve had a rocky and short relationship.”
“Who’s your vet?”
“Funaki.”
“Mai’s the best. I’ll want copies of his medical records for my files.”
“I’ll get them to you.”
“You’ll want to buy some small dog treats—the sort he can just chomp down rather than the bigger ones he’d need to stop and chew. Instant gratification. You’ll want a head collar and a leash in addition to his regular collar.”
“I had a leash. He—”
“Ate it,” Fiona finished. “It’s common enough.”
“Great. Head collar? Like a muzzle?”
She read Simon’s face clearly enough and was unsurprised when she saw him considering the idea of a muzzle. And was pleased when she noted his rejecting frown.
“No. It’s like a halter, and it’s gentle and effective. You’ll use it during training sessions here and at home. Instead of putting pressure on the throat, it puts pressure—gentle pressure—on calming points. It helps persuade a dog to walk rather than lunge and pull, to heel. And it’ll give him more control as well as put you more in tune with your pup.”
“Fine. Whatever works.”
“I’d advise you to replace or repair the crate and lay in a very big supply of chew toys and rawhide. The rope’s pretty much no-fail, but you’ll want tennis balls, rawhide bones, that sort of thing. I’ll give you a basic list of recommendations and requirements for training. I’ve got a class in...” She checked her watch. “Crap. Thirty minutes. And I didn’t call Syl.”
As Jaws began to leap and try to climb up her leg, she simply bent over, pushed his rump to the ground. “Sit.” Because she didn’t have a reward, she crouched, held him in place to pet and praise. “You might as well stay if you’ve got the time. I’ll sign you up.”
“I don’t have a million dollars on me.”
She released the pup, picked him up to cuddle. “Got thirty?”
“Probably.”
“Thirty for a thirty-minute group session. He’s, what, about three months old?”
“About.”
“We’ll make it work. It’s an eight-week course. You’re two behind. I’ll juggle in two individual sessions to bring him up to speed. Does that work for you?”
Simon shrugged. “It’s cheaper than a new truck.”
“Considerably. I’ll lend you a leash and a head collar for now.” Still carrying the puppy, she walked to the house.
“What if I paid you fifty, and you worked with him solo?”
She spared him a glance. “That’s not what I do. He’s not the only one who needs training.” She led him into the house before passing the puppy back to him. “You can come on back. I’ve got some extra leashes and collars, and you need some treats. I have to make a phone call.”
She veered off the kitchen to the utility room, where collars and leashes and brushes hung neatly according to type and size, and various toys and treats sat organized on shelves.
It made him think of a small pet boutique.
She gave Jaws another glance as he squirmed in Simon’s arms and tried to gnaw on his master’s hand.
“Do this.”
She turned to the pup and, using her forefinger and thumb, gently closed his mouth. “No.” And keeping her eyes on the dog’s, she reached behind her, took a rawhide chew toy shaped like a bone. “This is yours.” When he clamped it, she nodded. “Good dog! Go ahead and set him down. When he chews on you, or something else he shouldn’t, do what I did. Correct, give him a vocal command and replace with what’s his. Give positive reinforcement. Consistently. Find a leash and a collar for him.”
She stepped out into the kitchen, grabbed the phone and hit her stepmother’s number on speed dial. “Crap,” she muttered when it shifted to voice mail. “Syl, I hope you’re not already on your way. I got distracted and forgot to call. I’m home. We found the little boy. He’s fine. Decided to chase a rabbit and got lost, but no worse for wear. Anyway, if you’re on your way, I’ll see you here. If not, thanks for the standby, and I’ll call you later. Bye.”
She replaced the phone and turned to see Simon in the doorway, a leash in one hand and a small head collar in the other. “These?”
“Those should work.”
“What little boy?”
“Hmm. Oh, Hugh Cauldwell—he and his parents are here for a few days’ vacation in the state park. He wandered out of the house and into the forest this morning while they were sleeping. You didn’t hear?”
“No. Why would I?”
“Because it’s Orcas. Anyway, he’s fine. Home safe.”
“You work for the park?”
“No. I’m part of Canine Search and Rescue Association volunteers.”
Simon gestured toward the three dogs, currently sprawled on the kitchen floor like corpses. “Those?”
“That’s right. Trained and certified. You know, Jaws might be a good candidate for S-and-R training.”
He snorted out what might’ve been a laugh. “Right.”
“Strong play drive, curious, courageous, friendly, physically sound.” She lifted her eyebrows as the pup left his new toy to attack the laces on Simon’s boots. “Energetic. Forget your training already, human?”
“Huh?”
“Correct and replace and praise.”
“Oh.” He crouched, repeated the series Fiona had demonstrated. Jaws clamped on the toy, then spat it out and went for the laces again.
“Just keep doing it. I need to put some things together.” She started out, stopped. “Can you work that coffeemaker?”
He glanced to the unit on the counter. “I can figure it out.”
“Do that, will you? Black, one sugar. I’m running low.”
He frowned after her.
While he’d only been on the island a few months, he doubted he’d ever get used to the casual, open-door policy. Just come on in, complete stranger, he thought, and while you’re at it, make me some coffee while I leave you virtually alone.
