Her Valentine Sheriff. Deb Kastner
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“You want me to give it another go?” He quirked his lips upward to show he was still in the running.
She smiled back at him and nodded, waving a hand toward the hurdle.
“All right, buddy, let’s show the pretty lady how a K-9 jumps.” He jogged toward the hurdle with Bullet on his left, and then dodged to the side as they approached the station. He wasn’t giving the dog anywhere else to go but over, and he expected Bullet would have no problem complying. He was a large, energetic dog, and the jump was a small one. How hard could this be?
His plan was working well, all the way to the last moment, when Bullet pulled up and sat firmly on his haunches. Eli barely had time to react, changing direction just before the leash became taut. He didn’t want to choke the dog, but he didn’t want to land in an inglorious heap, either.
“Come on, big guy. Over the hurdle.” He yanked gently on the lead, but Bullet obstinately fought him, wagging his head back and forth, and resisting the pressure Eli put on him. Eli wanted to throw up his hands in defeat.
That wasn’t going to happen.
“You’re embarrassing me, here, dude,” he whispered to the dog. He swiped his palm across the stubble on his jaw, turned toward Mary and cleared his throat. “What am I doing wrong?”
“It’s all about enthusiasm. Bullet’s being stubborn to test you, to see how much you’re going to let him get away with.”
“So I need to be stricter with him?”
“The opposite, actually. Show him how excited you are to have him go over the hurdle, and he’ll gladly cooperate with you.”
“Excitement,” Eli repeated in a less-than-enthusiastic tone. He scratched the back of his neck. This was more complicated than he’d imagined it would be. Mary made it sound like he needed to appeal to the dog’s emotions. He couldn’t even begin to comprehend such a thing. “Like how, exactly?”
Mary stepped forward and took the lead from Eli’s slack fingers. She patiently walked the dog in a circle and straightened him out toward the jump.
“Come on, Bullet,” she said in an overly energetic, saccharine-sweet falsetto. “Let’s jump. Jump for me, Bullet. Come on. Come on, boy. You can do it.”
It seemed like an awful lot of words for a single command, but Eli had to admit it worked. Bullet bounded forward and sailed over the hurdle with a foot to spare, then eagerly sat in front of Mary, waiting for her praise, which she gave in abundance.
“Your turn,” Mary said, returning the dog to Eli. “Just remember to make it fun for him, and he’ll do whatever you want him to do. It’s not work for Bullet. It’s a game. And be sure to give him lots of praise when he gets things right.”
Eli gnawed the inside of his bottom lip thoughtfully.
“Fun. Right. All right. Bullet, jump.” He nudged on the dog’s lead and Bullet bounded forward, looking as if he were going to clear the hurdle with ease, as he’d done with Mary. At the last moment he once more turned, darting around Eli and leaving him yet again entangled in the six-foot leash.
Eli groaned. “I’m never going to get the hang of this,” he muttered under his breath. He twisted, trying to release himself from the leather and only succeeding to make things worse.
“Sure you are. Let’s get you out of these knots first, and then I want you to go stand right in front of the hurdle that’s troubling you. I think the running start is giving him too much time to consider his alternatives.”
Bullet hadn’t considered his alternatives when Mary had put him over the jump. So why was it so difficult for Eli to communicate with the K-9? It seemed to him it wasn’t the hurdle that was troubling him, it was the dog.
With Mary’s help Eli got the lead untangled from his ankles. He took a deep breath and tried again.
“Volg,” he commanded Bullet in a low, serious tone. The dog instantly responded, his attention completely on Eli as he walked toward the hurdle.
“Now put him in a sit-stay and step to the side of the jump, loosely holding the lead in your hand.”
Eli commanded the dog to sit and stay using the Dutch words he’d been taught earlier in the day. To his surprise, Bullet responded to his voice.
“Good for you!” Mary praised. “I’m impressed. You remembered all of the foreign words. It took me a week to get them right.”
Her praise was unexpectedly sincere, and Eli felt his ego crank up a notch or two. Not that she really had anything to be impressed about, but her kindness only made his resolve to prove himself quicken in his chest. He doubted she’d really had as much trouble learning the Dutch words as she was saying, but that only strengthened the impact of her words. Yet he was grateful she was giving him the opportunity to succeed.
“Remember, the more enthusiastic you are, the better Bullet will respond.”
Eli moved to the far side of the hurdle, taking the slack from the lead and clicking his tongue. “Come, Bullet. Over.”
Mary’s laughter fluttered across the air between them. “You call that enthusiasm? Where’s your animation? That sad excuse for excitement wouldn’t motivate me to jump over any hurdles.”
He wasn’t trying to get her to jump. Anyway, it was impossible for him to rustle up any kind of real excitement. He’d been dreading every moment of this day from start to finish. Of course, he’d gone out of his way to make sure she didn’t know that, so he supposed he’d better start showing some of that animation she was talking about.
“Um—good boy,” he said, his voice low and even. “Good boy, Bullet.”
Mary propped her hands on her hips. “If that is the best you can do, we are in real trouble. Try using the voice you use when you talk to babies.”
His gaze widened on her. “Babies? I don’t usually talk to babies...ever.”
“That’s right. You don’t have any nieces or nephews yet, do you?”
Eli couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought of his sister, Vee, with a baby. She and her husband, Ben, were a couple of adrenaline junkies who were married to their fire department careers and the stateside mission ministry they were both involved in. And his older brother, Cole, was still serving in the navy. “I think it’s safe to say that it is going to be a while.”
“Try it anyway,” she encouraged. “High, soft voice.”
“Good boy,” he repeated. He was aiming for a higher tone, but his voice was naturally low. Could he help it if he sang bass in the church choir?
Mary wrinkled her pert little nose at him. “Would that boring monotone motivate you?”
“I guess not.” Mary could be stricter than a drill sergeant, even if she was a lot prettier to look at. He cleared his throat and tried again.
“Good boy!” This time his voice came out high and a little bit squeaky. It was embarrassing, really. Thank goodness none of the guys were around to hear it.
Mary let out a whoop. “That’s it. Do it again.”
He led Bullet the opposite way over the hurdle. The dog easily cleared the jump and turned toward Eli, wagging his tail. “Good boy. Good boy! Who’s my good boy?”
Oh, the depths to which he had sunk.
Mary clapped in delight. “You’ve got it. I knew you had it in you.”
To bounce around like an overactive toddler, talking in falsetto? He certainly never would have guessed he had that in him anywhere. Nor, up until this moment, had he ever wanted there to be. But if he could get the dog to do what he was supposed to do and please Mary in the process, so be it.
“Let’s move on,” she suggested. “Next up is the