Chasing Stanley by Deirdre Martin

you’re lying.”
    Delilah blushed. “No, I’ve never heard of it.”
    â€œIt’s small, rural, and boring as hell. I got out of there as soon as I could.”
    â€œAnd now you play hockey.”
    â€œNow I play hockey. First in Minnesota, and now here.” Delilah had stopped petting Stanley, so Jason took over. “I bet it’s not half as interesting as walking and training dogs, though.”
    â€œPlease,” Delilah scoffed.
    â€œSeriously: you must see some interesting stuff.”
    Delilah swallowed nervously. It couldn’t hurt to open up just a little. She could always retreat if her tongue began tripping over itself.
    â€œThere’s this one little pug I walk named Quigley. I have to go through this little ritual before I can even get him out the door: I pet him five times, coo, ‘Quigley Wiggly you da man,’ and then give him a biscuit.”
    Jason looked perturbed. “Really?”
    â€œI didn’t come up with the ritual! His owners did.” Delilah was horrified he’d think her capable of such silliness, though if he ever heard the little songs she made up and sang to her dogs, he’d probably have her committed.
    â€œThat can’t be as bad as it gets,” Jason prompted.
    â€œOh, it’s not,” Delilah assured him, warming to the topic. “I walk one dog whose owner has covered every inch of wall space with pictures of Andy Griffith.”
    â€œMale or female?”
    â€œMale.”
    Jason looked queasy. “Sweet Lord deliver us, as my grandfather used to say.”
    â€œThen there’s this black Lab named Betty over on West Seventy-ninth whose owners are”—Delilah lowered her voice—“Satanists.”
    â€œHow do you know?”
    â€œThey leave their mail on table by the front door, and they’ve got a subscription to some magazine called Black Mass Monthly . Plus there’s a huge painting of Satan hanging over the fireplace.”
    Jason whistled through his teeth. “Man, I’d love to spend a day with you. I bet I’d learn a lot.”
    Delilah blushed, wondering he was referring to her clients or to her. “We’d better get back to Stanley.” She spent the remainder of the lesson getting Stanley used to wearing the Halti.
    â€œYou need to keep practicing with him,” Delilah told Jason. “Keep the Halti and the leash on for a little bit longer each day. After about three days, start walking him around your apartment with it on. If he pulls in a direction you don’t want him to go, stop a minute and tell him, ‘This way,’ or, ‘Let’s go.’ If he does what you say, give him a t-r-e-a-t. Never punish him if he does something wrong. Reward him if he does something right.” Delilah pulled out her PalmPilot. “So, next Thursday?”
    Jason grimaced. “Look, is there some kind of accelerated program we can put Stanley on?”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œBecause my first road trip is in about three weeks, and I’m worried he won’t be properly trained and you won’t board him.”
    Delilah crouched down so she was face-to-face with Stan. “You’ll be ready by then, won’t you, big guy?” Stanley’s response was to lick her face with a big slurp. “See?” she said to Jason. “He’ll be ready. No extra lessons necessary.”
    â€œIf you say so,” said Jason. Delilah thought he looked disappointed.
    â€œI guess that’s it, then. See you next week.”
    â€œNext week,” Jason echoed.
    â€œDon’t forget to practice.”
    â€œI won’t.” He paused. “Thanks for your help.” Before Delilah knew what was happening, Jason leaned in to give her a quick peck on the cheek. Dazed, she floated in the direction of his front door.
    â€œBye, Stanley,” she called over her shoulder on her way out. She hated to admit it, but next