Page 20 of Finding Noah
“Kind of like narcolepsy?” I’d never heard of this before.
“Well, narcolepsy is when they get super excited and they fall over fast asleep. Sleepy finds a spot to curl up before gently dozing off.” Flora shrugged. “Given the rambunctious nature of my twin six-year-old boys, I hoped to find a dog who would tire them out.” She eyed the other nine puppies.
All of whom were excitedly pawing at each other, nipping each other, trying to climb over each other, or—in the case of Penny—surveying the entire group like they were just a little out of their minds.
She’d always shown way more maturity than her high-spirited siblings. Or so her owner reported. Daphne, Penny’s owner, clearly had a keen sense of all things dog.
Pepsi and Smudge, named by an enthusiastic five-year-old and a sarcastic twelve-year-old—their father’s description, not mine—were all over each other with lots of nips, yips, and growls.
Had I been the breeder, unless these were the last two, I would not have put them together.
The sarcastic twelve-year-old, Brooke, and her overwhelmed father, Richard, were the two designated people responsible for the dogs. Richard was eager. Brooke?
I was going to have to win her over.
Frankie had a shock of white fur on her chest and the cutest yowl when something displeased her—which happened often. Mickie, her owner, confessed she might have three cats in the house and apparently Frankie now thought she was a cat, and wasn’t it great hersillydog could be around dogs again?
I had my doubts—Frankie really did have an impressive yowl that sort of did sound like a cat.
Tibby’s owner, Soren, was a handsome man with a shock of white hair and not a wrinkle to be found. So, either the hair didn’t match the biological age—which was entirely possible—or he had freakishly smooth and unlined skin.
I wasn’t certain which, but I was definitely curious.
I was also concerned about Bruiser. Clearly the dog had all the inherent gentleness one could expect of the perfect lab puppy. His owner, a stick-thin and short man named Junior was clearly hoping the dog would compensate for…something. He wanted a big, strong, bruising dog. He’d adopted a marshmallow.
Duncan’s Haggis was big, strong, and man, did that dog have an attitude. I’d have to watch her carefully while also nurturing her spirit. The man was self-effacing, adorable, and reminded me of Christian—slender with red hair. While Christian’s eyes were this amazing shade of green, though, Duncan’s were crystalline blue.
Roxy was a spitfire, but her owner Janelle was in control. The woman used to train service dogs, but she’d retired from that work.She totally could’ve trained Roxy on her own, but she liked the idea of socializing the puppy.
I worried she might know more about training than I did, but she assured me up front that she wasn’t here to judge—just to get some of the zoomies out of her beloved pet.
“Okay.” I used my outdoor voice—which worked because we were, in fact, outside. Most of our lessons would be out here. The family room at the back of the house could accommodate a fair number of people, but I’d want the dogs farther along in their training. Accidents were inevitable, but I preferred to have as few of them as possible in—
Bruiser squatted and, within an inch of Glynnis’s foot, pissed.
“Oh dear.” She scooted out of the line of spray just as her Bear decided to nose his way up Bruiser’s butt and, yep…
“Let me get a towel.” Realistically, Bear needed his entire snout washed, but I wasn’t going to worry about that.
Glynnis merely shrugged and gave me thewhat can you dolook.
I appreciated that. “Okay, everyone pay attention to me.”
Well, Penny did.
“Puppy class is as much about socializing and teaching good manners as it is about actual commands. By the end of the class, though, you should be able to loose-leash walk your dog, and they should be able to sit, come, and wait.” I surveyed the mass of wriggling bodies. “Any questions?”
“Will you have potty-training hints?” Mickie eyed Frankie. “Had to be my favorite Manolos.”
I winced. I didn’t even want to think about whatthatcost her. “I do have potty-training hints. Let’s save them for the end. Now, I want to introduce Christian and his dog Stormy. She’s about nine-months-old and, as you can see, fairly well trained. I’m going to show you a few things she can do so you’ll know what’s possible.” I eyed Janelle, whosmiled back. As a former trainer, she certainly knew what any given dog could accomplish.
Christian took Stormy through a series of basic commands and, to my relief, she nailed every single one.
For today, I started the class on working throughsit. Which, as always, proved hilarious.
Sleepy nodded off, and nothing Flora did would interest the puppy who would crack an eye, yawn, and put her head back on her paws.
I nudged Christian. “Can you see if Stormy might get Sleepy interested? Clearly she’s over her siblings.” I wasn’t certain I blamed her even as Tibby and Frankie started tussling. “Let’s separate them. We’ve got playtime coming up.”
