Page 22 of Finding Noah
I cleared my throat. “Oh, I think Pepsi’s about to lose a gasket.” So was twelve-year-old Brooke, who really was too young for this. But each puppy needed a handler, so this was what I had to work with. Not ideal.
“I’ll think about it.” Daphne eyed Christian. “He is very cute.”
Instead of trying to sell him further—because, yeah, that had been a bad idea—I headed toward Pepsi and Brooke.
Thirty minutes later, after a short attempt at leash training along with a play session where all the puppies piled into the center of the training ring—except Sleepy who was, of course, asleep. By the time class was over, several puppies had to be carried to their cars.
As I gave Mickie some potty-training tips, out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Daphne speaking to Christian.
Frankie kept trying to gnaw on Stormy’s leg.
My dog would, gently, bop the puppy on the head. She might’ve still been a puppy herself, but she had a good grasp of pack behavior—which would stand us in good stead as we progressed through the various classes.
Mickie and Frankie departed as I continued to surreptitiously watch Daphne and Christian.
“Do you mind if I ask a question?” A soft, masculine voice pulled me from my observations.
I pivoted to Soren and offered a broad smile. “Of course.”
Tibby, as if sensing this was an important moment, sat and gazed up at me.
“How can I help?”
His light-brown eyes sparkled with amusement. “She’s proving to be a handful.”
“Ah, lab puppies should come with a warning label.”
“My last dog was a boxer. He did come with a warning label—I just didn’t heed it.”
“Ah.” I chuckled.
“I loved him. Truly, I did. But he was definitely the…dumbest…dog I’ve ever had. I also miss him terribly.”
“They do have a way of worming into our hearts.” I eyed Tibby. “A boxer to a lab’s a bit of a leap.”
“I was looking for a placid dog. Clearly I wasn’t reading the right forums.” He gazed down. “I adore her, but this is the most placid she’s been since I brought her home.”
“Maybe you and Flora could trade dogs. She was hoping Sleepy would tire her boys out. Clearly the dog has no interest in doing that.”
Soren chuckled. “If I thought I could talk Flora into it, I might’ve considered it. At first, at least. Now? I’m kind of attached.”
Tibby, again as if sensing the moment, started chewing on Soren’s shoelace.
“Stimulation. You need to give her your full attention with lots of toys and games. Keep that mind of hers moving so she can’t get up to mischief.”
“Mischief is the right word. She’s a whirling dervish. I turn my back for ten seconds…” He shrugged. “I didn’t really need that umbrella anyway. My fault for having left it on the bench.”
“They can be good chewers. Puppy-proofing your house is critical.”
“Oh, I know. I never unproofed it during my entire tenure with the boxer—that would’ve been dangerous. The umbrella was a moment of lack of concentration.” He leaned in. “My brother was trying to hook me up with this guy. The guy’s cute, but totally not my type. But how am I supposed to explain that to my brother? He wants to be supportive, but doesn’t understand, uh, things.”
I eyed him. “Yes, dating gay guys can get complicated.”
His face brightened. “Right? I hoped you’d understand.”
“Oh, I do. Christian has tried to set me up a few times, and I was like, uh, no. Just…no.”
“Top?”
