most Maltese wear, but I was afraid she’d take that as criticism, which I knew Giselle did not appreciate, however constructive it might be. No, she would take my question as an attack on her person.
Precious. I like to think that in the community of dogs he was known as “Spike” or “Ratslayer.” It might make up for the pink bow. He kept a close eye on his mistress, not so much attentive in an obedience sense as observant in the self-preservation sense. Some people say dogs don’t reason, but those are people who haven’t observed dogs and other animals very closely. I know the little guy had a pretty good idea of what would happen if Giselle toppled onto him. I put Jay in a down stay, and the little white fluffball came up and sniffed a greeting while Jay wriggled his rear end in reply.
Giselle peered at me from under her stringy bangs, her body listing to the left as if she were ready to duck and cover. “Hello, Janet?” It sounded more like a question than a greeting. Except for our encounters at the weekend dog show, Giselle hadn’t spoken to me in months, not since our last online dust-up over a dog training issue. I couldn’t help but wonder why she seemed so eager to talk to me now.
“Hi, Giselle. How are you holding up? I know you and Abigail were pretty close.”
“Oh, okay. Not bad? You know, I feel pretty sad for poor Greg? But okay. You know, not too bad.”
“Yeah, rough for Greg.” I tried to make eye contact, but she dodged me. “Kinda rough for Abigail, too.”
Giselle blinked and shuffled, hoisted Precious, and enveloped him in her massive arms. “Oh, sure, of course? But,” her voice went dreamy, “she’s in a better place.”
“I hope they have obedience trials there. I don’t think Abigail would find harps and clouds all that heavenly. Anyway, I’m not sure she was quite ready to go.”
Giselle shot me a look I couldn’t interpret, then lowered her gaze again. “I just wanted to let you know I’ll take care of Pip for Greg?” Was she asking or telling? “You don’t need to bother?”
“It’s no bother. I think Greg is okay with this arrangement for a few days. Besides, Pip and Jay are having fun together.” She tried to sneak a sidelong look at me, but I caught her and she looked at the floor instead. “But thanks for offering.”
We’d reached the head of the line and it was my turn for a recall, giving me an escape. The obedience rules say that “The dog must come directly, at a brisk trot or gallop, and sit straight, centered in front of the handler.” I told my dog to stay and walked the forty feet to the other end of the ring. When I called him, Jay came running, failed to brake, hit me in the chest with his front paws, and dropped into a sit in front of me with a grin on his face. Fine with me. I’ll take happy over precise any day, as long as I don’t end up on my butt.
I got a bottle of water from my bag and was just swiping my sweatshirt sleeve along my mouth when I heard Tom’s voice behind me. “Nice recall. Brownie points for staying on your feet.” He was grinning that grin again, and my stupid knees wobbled. Then he shifted his gaze to my lovely dog. “Jay’s really shaped up in the past year.” He murmured something to Drake, and the big dog lay down, rested his graying chin on the cool linoleum, and closed his eyes. “I remember when you first got him.”
You do?
Tom hunkered down and let Jay sniff the back of his hand, gently stroking the underside of the dog’s chin with the other. “You look great now, Pal! Shows what love can do.” He turned to me and winked a wicked wink.
Whoosh! Blood rushed to my face. Tom was so busy petting Jay that I doubt he noticed my reaction, and I managed to get a grip on myself and babble, “He was seventy-three pounds when I got him. His breeder had already taken ten off him. He was so fat he couldn’t roll over, had no training, and was afraid of other dogs, too. Now he’s fifty-four
Precious. I like to think that in the community of dogs he was known as “Spike” or “Ratslayer.” It might make up for the pink bow. He kept a close eye on his mistress, not so much attentive in an obedience sense as observant in the self-preservation sense. Some people say dogs don’t reason, but those are people who haven’t observed dogs and other animals very closely. I know the little guy had a pretty good idea of what would happen if Giselle toppled onto him. I put Jay in a down stay, and the little white fluffball came up and sniffed a greeting while Jay wriggled his rear end in reply.
Giselle peered at me from under her stringy bangs, her body listing to the left as if she were ready to duck and cover. “Hello, Janet?” It sounded more like a question than a greeting. Except for our encounters at the weekend dog show, Giselle hadn’t spoken to me in months, not since our last online dust-up over a dog training issue. I couldn’t help but wonder why she seemed so eager to talk to me now.
“Hi, Giselle. How are you holding up? I know you and Abigail were pretty close.”
“Oh, okay. Not bad? You know, I feel pretty sad for poor Greg? But okay. You know, not too bad.”
“Yeah, rough for Greg.” I tried to make eye contact, but she dodged me. “Kinda rough for Abigail, too.”
Giselle blinked and shuffled, hoisted Precious, and enveloped him in her massive arms. “Oh, sure, of course? But,” her voice went dreamy, “she’s in a better place.”
“I hope they have obedience trials there. I don’t think Abigail would find harps and clouds all that heavenly. Anyway, I’m not sure she was quite ready to go.”
Giselle shot me a look I couldn’t interpret, then lowered her gaze again. “I just wanted to let you know I’ll take care of Pip for Greg?” Was she asking or telling? “You don’t need to bother?”
“It’s no bother. I think Greg is okay with this arrangement for a few days. Besides, Pip and Jay are having fun together.” She tried to sneak a sidelong look at me, but I caught her and she looked at the floor instead. “But thanks for offering.”
We’d reached the head of the line and it was my turn for a recall, giving me an escape. The obedience rules say that “The dog must come directly, at a brisk trot or gallop, and sit straight, centered in front of the handler.” I told my dog to stay and walked the forty feet to the other end of the ring. When I called him, Jay came running, failed to brake, hit me in the chest with his front paws, and dropped into a sit in front of me with a grin on his face. Fine with me. I’ll take happy over precise any day, as long as I don’t end up on my butt.
I got a bottle of water from my bag and was just swiping my sweatshirt sleeve along my mouth when I heard Tom’s voice behind me. “Nice recall. Brownie points for staying on your feet.” He was grinning that grin again, and my stupid knees wobbled. Then he shifted his gaze to my lovely dog. “Jay’s really shaped up in the past year.” He murmured something to Drake, and the big dog lay down, rested his graying chin on the cool linoleum, and closed his eyes. “I remember when you first got him.”
You do?
Tom hunkered down and let Jay sniff the back of his hand, gently stroking the underside of the dog’s chin with the other. “You look great now, Pal! Shows what love can do.” He turned to me and winked a wicked wink.
Whoosh! Blood rushed to my face. Tom was so busy petting Jay that I doubt he noticed my reaction, and I managed to get a grip on myself and babble, “He was seventy-three pounds when I got him. His breeder had already taken ten off him. He was so fat he couldn’t roll over, had no training, and was afraid of other dogs, too. Now he’s fifty-four
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