Second Chance Soldier. Linda O. Johnston
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approached the man with short black hair who now stood beside his car, his dog at his side. “Evan?”
“That’s right. And you’re Amber?” Though he stood facing her, he didn’t quite look at her. He had a hint of dark beard stubble on his long, angular face, a cool expression in his deep blue eyes that gave no indication at all as to what he was thinking or feeling. Maybe he was watching her mother. Or looking at their black Labrador retriever, Lola, who stood beside Sonya.
“Yes. Welcome. And who’s this?” Amber gestured toward his dog, wanting to approach to pet him but recognizing that was a bad idea with a trained K-9 without asking permission.
“This is Bear.” There was a note of pride in Evan’s voice. “He’s been with me for a while.”
Which suggested he might be a former military K-9.
“May I pet him?” Amber asked.
“Sure.”
While she stroked the apparently pleased dog’s head behind his ears, she next asked, “Would you like to come inside for a cup of coffee?” That would mean a chat about Evan’s background, which Amber already somewhat knew from their online conversations, or the job, which he’d learned about the same way. “Or just start with the dogs?”
“The dogs,” he said with no hesitation.
“Fine.” In fact, that was good. Talking with the guy now wouldn’t tell her what she needed to know.
Watching him in action would.
“First,” she said, turning away from Bear, “I’d like you to meet my mother, Sonya, and our dog, Lola.”
Lola, though restrained by a leash held by Sonya, had leaped forward and now traded nose sniffs with Bear. No animosity that Amber could perceive—a good start. Whatever his background, Bear also appeared well behaved.
“Hi.” Her mom stepped forward. She held her hand outstretched and Evan grasped it but didn’t look straight into her eyes, either. Amber wondered once more what was on this guy’s mind.
“Hi,” he responded, letting go right away.
Amber exchanged a brief glance with her mother, then turned back to Evan. “The first puppies who need training are over there.” She pointed toward the location just beyond the wide driveway that he had probably noticed before.
Three German shepherds about six months old stood watching them from a small area surrounded by a chain-link fence, just beyond the main wood-plank fence at the edge of the rolling lawn. The pups had been selected by Amber’s dad when they were even younger as having the temperament to potentially have a future as skilled police K-9s.
By Amber’s now-deceased father...
Now wasn’t the time to think about that.
For the first time since he arrived, Evan smiled. “I noticed them,” he said, not taking his eyes off the canines. “Okay if I join them and check out where they are in their training?”
“Sure,” Amber said, but almost before the word was out of her mouth he began striding in that direction.
Trading glances once again, Amber and Sonya followed, not far behind. Her mother still held Lola’s leash, restraining their dog from getting too far ahead—and in Evan’s way. Bear stayed at his side, though, without a leash.
It was May, and the air was warm, the sky a brilliant blue. A lovely day—if there could be such a thing in this family any longer. A good day, at least, for this kind of test.
As Evan reached the fenced area, the ranch’s barely trained K-9 German shepherd puppies—Rex, Hal and Lucy—all stood as they saw him, clearly excited. Rex started barking, the sound shrill and loud, inciting the others to do the same.
Evan looked down into the face of the initially guilty dog, gestured and said, “Sit!” softly yet firmly.
Amber was both amazed and pleased to see Rex immediately both sit and quiet down, and the others followed suit.
“Wow,” whispered her mom at her side, obviously equally impressed.
Was it this man’s body language, his clear intent to take control? Amber had no idea, but it felt different, very different, from the others who’d been here before him. Some had yelled orders above the barks, some had shoved the pups into place, and some had done both. Others had bribed them with treats.
Evan’s approach was different. So was his attitude. He seemed strong yet caring.
And that was just the beginning. Without looking toward Amber or Sonya for consent, Evan opened the nearby gate to the lawn, and he, Bear and Lola—whose leash he’d removed—then entered the smaller fenced area.
“Hi,” he said to the pups, who all squirmed on the ground beside him. He appeared to study them for a while, then Rex dashed around and the other two rolled on the grass as if wanting to be petted. He didn’t touch them but asked Amber for their names. He repeated the names, watching each dog to see their reactions. “Okay,” he finally said. “Let’s do it.”
The three young shepherds plus Lola were then subjected to a whirlwind of instructions, including commands they might not have heard before. Bear, too, participated, clearly knowing and obeying each order.
Evan’s large, strong hands moved in an assortment of gestures that were each tied to one of those verbal commands. He sometimes repositioned his large, lithe body while getting the dogs to move, too. His hand movements were gentle as, looking straight into their faces, he guided them into the positions he wanted them to achieve. Each time they obeyed a command, a touch or both, he rewarded them with praise.
His tone was encouraging, as if the dogs understood every word, and maybe they did thanks to his accompanying gestures or their limited prior training.
Evan seldom scolded them, but he did distract one or another when they didn’t obey by walking in front and grabbing the dog’s attention by movement and a strong tone of voice.
He also rewarded them now and then by extracting a toy that resembled a small fabric suitcase handle that Amber knew was called a tug from one pocket, and at other times a ball out of another pocket, each time tossing it for an obedient dog to chase and bring back.
Meanwhile, Bear followed all of Evan’s commands, as if he provided an example each time.
The pups that Amber found so adorable, so sweet—and so disobedient—now acted as if they couldn’t wait to receive and obey the next command.
After about twenty minutes, when Evan had worked with all the shepherds—plus Lola—several times, he turned and looked toward Amber and her mother, who both watched him over the fence. It was the first time he’d glanced at them since starting.
“I gather that these pups have had a small amount of training,” he said, “but they’ve a lot to learn. I’ll want to hear more about their background. I assume the intention is for one or all of them to wind up as police K-9s, so I could start their initial training for single-purpose use—just finding and attacking bad guys. But most police departments prefer dual-purpose dogs, those that can also do drug or explosive sniffing, cadaver location, search and rescue or more, and I can help prepare them for that, too, though what they’re taught will depend on their individual skills and what their ultimate handlers will want from them.”
“And you can provide all that training?” Amber asked. She was definitely impressed. None of the others she’d invited here had come even close to what Evan had already accomplished.
“Well, sure,” he said, as if that was a foregone conclusion. He briefly looked her straight in the face, as if trying to read her mind, but only for an instant before he glanced away and turned back toward the dogs.
Amber started walking away and gestured for her mother to follow. They didn’t go far before she stopped, looked at her mother and asked in a low voice, “What do you think?”