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Baxter bounds forward, his tail a furious pendulum, exuberance personified as he reaches Emily. She laughs and bends to greet him with a scratch of his ears.
“Hey there, troublemaker.”
Watching them, a kernel of hope takes root within me. If anyone can turn this unruly beast into a semblance of a civilized companion, it’s her. Carol did me a solid by giving me Emily’s number. I’ll have to remember that when I’m writing holiday bonuses.
I clear my throat, which feels oddly thick. “I really appreciate you spending so much time on training this week.”
“Of course.” She straightens up from petting Baxter. “Are you ready to get started?”
“Yes.” I glance at the clock on the wall. “I’ll just be in my office.” I nod at the door to my home office, on the other side of the living room.
Her eyebrows rise, and instantly I know I’ve said something wrong.
“Is there a problem?” I ask.
“It’s not just about training him,” she says gently. “You need to be involved too. Dogs and their owners need to learn together.”
A flush of irritation warms my neck. The implication that I am part of the problem prickles at my ego.
“I’m not the one who needs to learn,” I say. “It’s him.”
“Baxter can listen to me all night and day, but what happens once I’m gone?” she presses. “He needs to know thatyou’rethe one in charge, and he needs to know that he can trust you. Count on you.”
I look down at the slobbering beast. Count on me? No way does this animal want any sort of bond with me. Based on the way he’s half-destroyed my home, he dislikes me even more than I do him.
“Fine,” I say, the word clipped and reluctant.
It’s not as if I have a choice. The terms are clear: care for Baxter, take over Lennox Realty. And I can’t focus on work when Baxter is taking all my time and energy. So, here I am.
“Good.” She nods with approval and turns her attention to Baxter, who is already attempting to scale her like a mountain.She steps back each time he jumps, denying him the foothold he seeks.
“Ah-ah, Baxter. Down,” she instructs, her voice firm but calm.
Every rejection from Emily teaches him restraint, and when his paws finally stay planted on the ground, she rewards him with a treat. A simple lesson in boundaries, yet it works.
“Your turn,” she prompts, handing me the bag of treats.
I kneel before Baxter, assuming that if we’re eye to eye it will make this easier.
“You stand,” Emily says. “So he remembers that you’re in charge.”
“I won’t say I dislike that,” I mutter, standing.
She doesn’t react, and I wonder if I’ve said something to offend her. Or maybe I’m too in my head when she’s around.
“Sit,” I command Baxter, fumbling with the unfamiliar use of authority — at least with an animal.
Baxter stares up at me, those brown eyes wide and questioning. For a moment, there’s a stillness, a silent understanding between man and beast. Then, as if conceding to this new dynamic, he sits. His tail sweeps the floor, cautious but friendly.
“Wait,” I add, testing the waters of our newfound rapport.
Baxter’s muscles tense, ready to spring into chaos, but he holds.
“Good boy,” I say softly, surprised at how happy this makes me.
He waits for the treat, and I reward his patience. In that exchange, something shifts. It’s more than just Baxter learning —I’mlearning too.
Damn it, but Emily was right.