“Bad dog!” I chastised my new puppy, Neesox, for jumping on me when I entered the apartment. I’d adopted the adorable lab mix from a shelter. She was mostly black but had a perfect set of white knee socks halfway up her back legs, hence the name.
Neesox was a joy, except for her exuberant jumping—on me, delivery people, and neighbors who stopped to pet her during our walks—twisting and turning with excitement and licking any face that moved close to hers. I soon decided that some professional training was indicated.
My first class was an eye opener—in more ways than one.
The trainer looked around at the nine dog owners attempting to rein in their unruly pooches and checked his watch. “I was expecting one more,” he said, “but we’ll have to start.”
Just then the door opened and trainee number ten entered the room with a giant shepherd in tow.
“I’m Jack Bishop,” he announced. “I hope I didn’t hold things up. I had to show a house, and the prospect was late. This is my dog, Casper.”
Casper was a stunning specimen, and so was Mr. Bishop—tall and strong looking with distinguished gray at his temples, no doubt close to my age of forty-five. He was the first man who’d turned my head since I’d become a divorcee the previous year, and I gladly made room for him right next to me. “This is Neesox,” I told him.
Neesox and Casper chose that moment to lunge at each other, their leashes becoming crossed in the process.
“Bad dog!” Jack and I exclaimed simultaneously, laughing together at our common response. The trainer watched with strained patience while we disentangled them, then made a booming pronouncement:
“There are no bad dogs, just inept owners.”
The tardy newcomer looked at me sheepishly. “Think he means us?” His impish grin sent a flutter of excitement through me, making me forget for a moment why I was there. It took Neesox pulling on her leash and the trainer clearing his throat to bring me out of my trance.
Our first exercise was to walk in a circle, totally ignoring our leashed dogs. “A way to establish that you are in charge,” the trainer explained. “You are to pay no attention to them, no matter how enchanting they look.”
I had no trouble complying with his instructions, because my attention was on Jack Bishop, who looked every bit as enchanting as Neesox and who glanced back at me after every few steps.
“It’s a good idea to keep your eyes straight ahead,” the trainer urged. Jack kept his handsome face forward, but not before he turned his head one more time and gave me a wink.
When that exercise was over, we learned how to train our dogs to sit and stay and one-by-one demonstrated our proficiency. Jack gave me the high sign when first Neesox, then Casper, performed admirably. “By George, I think we’ve got it,” he said with a feigned British accent. Only his sense of humor exceeded his charm.
When class ended and we were on our way outside, he fell in step beside me. “Do you think we’ll ever get an ‘A’ in dog handling?” he asked with a shrug that accentuated his sizable shoulders.
Before I could answer, he stopped and extended his hand.
“It occurs to me that I know your dog’s name but not yours.”
“I’m Shelley Powers,” I managed, despite feeling breathless from his touch.
“Would that be Mrs. Powers I hope not?”
“It’s just Shelley. I’m divorced,” I was happy to tell him, “and upon my new status, I took my own name back and got this cute little puppy.”
“He has nothing on you, Shelley.” That quip rendered me speechless. Fortunately, he quickly added, “I, too, am divorced, and I got custody of the dog.”
Our pets chose that moment to again become entangled. “Casper and Neesox seem determined to get together,” he said, reaching to extricate them. “I think they’re trying to tell us something—like maybe I should offer you a ride home.”
Again, he didn’t wait for a response.
“Or, better yet, maybe you’d like to accompany Casper and me to this empty lot near my apartment where I let him run around. We could stop for a latte to sip while we watch them play.”
“I’d like that, and I think the dogs will be happy to have some unfettered time to get to know each other.”
“And maybe that goes double for us,” he said, as he held the car door open.
Casper and Neesox jumped into the back seat, and my heart jumped for joy.
♥♥♥
Loved how their pets brought them together 🥰