Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 93425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Birdie had written in one of her first letters that she’d asked for a dog for Christmas and Santa hadn’t brought her one. So I couldn’t help but wonder what made her father get one now. Was some stalker lurking around the neighborhood, and he felt she needed some protection when he wasn’t home? Well, some stalker other than me, that is. I hoped that wasn’t the case.
I really needed to teach this dog something today, because it was almost time to bring him back already. But most of the training information I’d read said you needed dog treats. So I improvised. I dug around inside my purse for whatever I had that might be a decent substitute. Unfortunately, I didn’t come up with too many choices—only one stick of gum and a KIND bar, which was mostly nuts. Since half the world seemed to be allergic these days, I googled can dogs eat nuts to be safe. They could but needed to avoid macadamia and walnuts. After checking out the ingredients of my KIND bar, I shoved the stick of gum in my mouth and stood. Marmaduke stood right along with me. I broke the KIND bar into a few pieces and showed him one.
“Sit,” I said sternly. “Oh wait, no. Sitz.”
The dog just looked at me. I sighed and called up one of the better articles I’d read on dog training and scanned for the section on teaching a dog to sit.
Step one. Kneel directly in front of your pet.
Great. Grass stains on my white pants. I took a deep breath and dropped to my knees anyway.
Step two. Holding the treat in your hand, let your dog see their reward, then bring it to their nose.
That seemed kind of mean. I hoped Marmaduke wouldn’t lunge for my fingers and take a few of those along with the KIND bar for taunting him. But he didn’t. Hmm . . . maybe the person who drafted this article was onto something. So I continued.
Step three. Tuck the reward into your hand and raise your hand upward. Tell your dog to sit.
I tucked the chunk of nut bar into my palm, then spoke in a stern voice. “Sitz!”
Holy shit.
Marmaduke sat.
He actually sat!
I gave him the treat and scratched behind both of his ears. “Good boy. You’re a good boy.”
By the time I left the park to head back to the Maxwell house to return my prized student, he’d followed my command at least five times. The very last time, I didn’t even have a treat in my hand. The moment I raised my arm, he simply parked his ass on the grass. I couldn’t believe it. But while I’d managed to accomplish one small task, I definitely was not a professional trainer. And I needed to nip this craziness in the bud. My meddling in Birdie’s life had already caused enough damage. I was supposed to be stepping back from interfering, not diving into it headfirst. Though I had to admit, I was really excited to get to meet the sweet little girl. And the fact that I was returning to the sitter and not Sebastian made me feel way less stressed than I would’ve been if I’d had to face him again.
I arrived on Eighty-Third Street a few minutes later than the time I was supposed to return. Stopping to take a few deep breaths, I recomposed myself and headed up the flight of stairs to the Maxwell brownstone. I rang the bell and waited, but no one came to the door. After a minute, I remembered what Sebastian had said about the bell being broken and that I needed to knock loudly. So I did.
A pleasant-looking woman who was probably in her midfifties answered the door. With her warm smile, she wasn’t nearly as intimidating as the guy I’d had to deal with earlier.
“You must be Gretchen,” she said.
I nodded. “Yup, that’s me. Gretchen the dog trainer.”
She stepped aside. “Come in. I’m Magdalene. Mr. Maxwell said I should learn anything that we need to work on at home to help with Marmaduke’s training.”
I looked around as I entered. The house was quiet. No sign of either Sebastian or Birdie. “Umm. Is Mr. Maxwell home? Everyone is welcome to join in on the training.”
She shook her head. “No. He left for work. He works nights. But his daughter and I are anxious to work on the training. He’s her dog.”
My heart did an unexpected little flutter at the mention of Birdie. “His daughter’s dog. Oh, okay. Can she join us?”
Magdalene shook her head. “No, she’s out with her Girl Scouts troop doing a fundraiser in front of the supermarket. But I’ll teach her whatever you think we should work on.”
I felt deflated. No Birdie.
Swallowing a sigh, I nodded. “Okay. Well, today we worked on sit, but his commands are in German. I’m out of treats—would you have any so that I can demonstrate?”