Chapter Five
Not even Leo could get Lucifer’s owner to ease up on the leash.
At least the dog’s front feet touched the ground by the end of his turn, but Damon clearly didn’t buy Leo’s contention that you had to give the dog room to disobey in order to learn to obey.
It was instructional to watch the other dog-owner pairs and listen to Leo’s advice to them.
We went around once with each owner getting the dog to sit beside him — on leash — and wait until given a release word. And repeat at least three times. Most did great on the initial sit, though several of the younger dogs had bouncy bottom syndrome and popped right back up.
Gracie did great — so, there, Lassie Syndrome.
She also sailed through the second round of lying down on command, though Leo said to get her to focus on me as she did so, and that is no easy task with Miss Swivel Head.
The third time around, we owners were to get the dog to come by me, which involved coming to our side and sitting without a separate command.
Damon Swindell failed completely.
That might have been satisfying if it hadn’t also meant Lucifer failed. By the end, he no longer had the happy tongue out the side of his mouth, but was panting with anxiety.
Leo suggested ways to work on the skill at home, then moved on.
A couple other owner-dog pairs did okay, then Donna’s granddaughter took Bernie out.
The first two tries failed.
She stayed calm and listened intently to Leo’s instructions.
Success.
Bernie gobbled up the treat she gave him and the murmurs of approval from most of the other owners, while Leo crooned in a falsetto, “Yes, Bernie.”
I swear Berrie, sitting across from us, preened.
It would be wrong to shout The dog, not you.
Definitely wrong. Though tempting.
Our turn next.
I stood, adjusting the leash to get Gracie on my left side.
“I didn’t notice before — you walk her on the left?” Leo said.
“Uh-huh.”
I was a little distracted, because Gracie got it into her head at that moment to visit LuLu, so I needed to redirect her attention. At least that’s what the trainers call it. Others might call it pulling on her leash.
Leo said, not unkindly, “When you come in next time, put your dog on the side you walk her.”
Great, I’d goofed before class started.
But Gracie pulled us out of the dumpster with three good by mes.
I’m prejudiced, but I thought she had the best by me of the class, with the exception that her focus is rarely on me as she constantly monitors her surroundings for rogue wolves threatening her flock, despite not having a flock and my repeated assurances that wolves don’t roam Haines Tavern.
Berrie tried to work with both dogs at the same time, which was as much of a fiasco as you might imagine. Finally, she told one of the Bostons to stay on the bed, while she led the other one back to the center.
The left-behind Boston gave her a jaunty, canine middle finger by trotting off the bed to stand in front of Quasar, pinning intense eyes on her and barking repeatedly.
Berrie spun around — this time tangling herself in a single leash — and immediately accused the gray-haired man, “You must have lured her out of her stay.”
Before the poor man recovered from the unexpected attack, Leo said, “Oscar didn’t.”
Berrie’s lips parted, but Leo kept going.
“Neither did Quasar.”
Another mini pandemic of throat-clearing and coughs.
Leo showed no sign of hearing. “Put her back on the bed, hook her leash, and return to this pup.”
Despite Leo’s calm, it took several minutes for Berrie to get back to the task with the first dog. And even then, she argued with Leo.
Truly, the guy deserved medals — plural — for his patience.
Though he didn’t need it with any of the remaining dogs.
Wrapping up class, he said, “When owners learn they make the difference and they — much more than the dog — change, that’s when progress starts.”
“Oh, c’mon, it’s a little the dog,” said gray-haired Oscar.
Everyone laughed. Including Leo. “Five percent.”
“At least go to ten,” the man bargained.
That drew more laughter, ending the session on an upbeat note.
No, I took that back. It wasn’t everyone who laughed. There was a break in the laughing circle.
Damon Swindell. His glower seemed to indicate he took laughter as a personal affront.
His wife, who seemed not to have heard Leo.
The other wife, Zoley Georger, who looked bored.
Her husband, Bryon Georger, who did almost smile.
That Gang of Four was a bundle of fun.