Blame It On The Dog. Amy Frazier
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neatly subdivided. In the very large section beyond the one in which they stood, dozens of dogs milled quietly about. Some lounged in the shade of awnings hung from the fenced perimeter. Others splashed in water-filled kiddy pools. Still others chased a ball in what looked like a canine game of pickup soccer. Selena was struck by the placid atmosphere even though the dogs were left to their own devices.
“There’s no barking,” Drew said in a near whisper.
“No,” Andy replied. “These are well-adjusted dogs. But they weren’t always like this.”
As a group of dogs came up to the fence, curious to check out the visitors, Selena noted there wasn’t a hyper Axel amongst them. No whining, barking or jumping on the chain link. As well-behaved as they were, however, she saw they weren’t even city-pound-quality. Some were missing a leg, others an eye. Many of them bore ancient scars. “These guys aren’t ever going to be adopted, are they?” she asked.
“It’s doubtful,” Andy replied. “But they have a home for the rest of their lives. Here. Jack’s seen to that. He’s even worked out a deal with the homeless in the area. If, for any reason, they can’t take care of their dogs, they can bring them here. No questions asked. Even if it’s just temporarily until the person thinks they can take care of the dog again.”
Selena wasn’t sure she was ready for Quinn to turn out to be a nice guy.
“Jack’s working at the far end in one of the isolation pens,” Andy said. “I’ll give you the tour as we make our way to him.”
“Through there?” Selena squeaked, as Andy moved to open the gate to the freeroaming dog area. Suddenly wading through a mass of street dogs seemed a little daunting.
“Sure,” Andy replied. “You do know how to meet dogs for the first time?”
“There’s a right way?”
“Absolutely.” Andy looked especially at Drew, who seemed mesmerized by the pack. “No eye contact. No talking. No touching. At least until they’ve sniffed you thoroughly. Keep your head high, your shoulders back. Act like you own the world.”
“Mom’s good at that,” Drew quipped.
“You’ll do fine,” Andy replied with a smile. “When we step through the gate, walk slowly toward the end of the compound, keeping your eyes on the top of that flagpole. I’ll tell you when you can stop and interact.”
She remembered how she’d just scooped up Axel as a pup and brought him home. If dogs were really this complicated they should issue owners’ manuals. The thought gave her pause, but as Andy opened the gate, she took Drew’s hand—it was testament to the power of the pack that he let her—and stepped into Jack Quinn’s world.
She hadn’t anticipated how difficult it would be to walk and not acknowledge the dogs she felt sniffing about her. Her first instinct, once she realized how truly well-behaved they were, was to greet them, pet them, get to know their individual personalities. But, having closed the gate, Andy walked alongside her with a hand on her back propelling her gently, silently forward. It all felt so ritualized she couldn’t help wonder if she’d gotten herself involved in some canine cult.
“Okay,” Andy said quietly. “Stop and look around.”
What a letdown. Most of the dogs had wandered off to resume their previous activities. “What just happened?” she asked. “Or didn’t.”
“I’m assuming you have a dog who greets you differently.”
“And how!” Drew said.
“They’ve acknowledged you as calm, assertive leaders,” Andy explained. “Now they’re just hanging out.”
“But we don’t want a dog that ignores us,” Selena protested.
“Of course not.” Andy whistled, and several dogs, tails wagging, responded quickly—still not jumping. He petted each in turn and urged Drew and Selena to do the same. “But you need to learn when to give affection. Always when a dog is calm. Giving it when the dog is overly excited just reinforces the unacceptable behavior.”
Selena didn’t know if she was buying in to this behavioristic rigmarole, but Drew seemed enamored of the circling dogs.
Andy glanced at his watch. “Jack should be about finished. Let’s wind up the tour.” He led them to yet another gate.
For the first time Selena noticed beyond the fenced-in dog area an outer walkway that connected the earlier holding area for humans to an area in the back where several people were bathing animals, while others worked with owners and their leashed pets. There was plenty of room left over for what looked like an agility training course and a semipermanent trailer with an Office sign hung by the door.
“You mean to tell me,” she said, “we didn’t have to walk through that sea of dogs?”
“Jack’s orders.”
Was the guy trying to intimidate her?
“Why is he in there?” Drew asked, pointing to a row of large cages at the far end of the property, each housing a single dog. Jack was in one of the pens with what looked like a spitz mix that had been muzzled.
Andy led them to stand a distance from the cages, then stopped. He spoke in hushed tones. “He’s working with an abandoned dog. Very aggressive. The original rescuing shelter recommended he be put down as dangerous. But Jack rarely gives up on a dog. He thinks this one can be rehabilitated into our pack. The dog’s accepted Jack’s presence. Now Jack needs to show him who’s leader.”
Drew took a step forward, but Andy put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. “We can watch from here. But you’re going to have to be very still. Radiate calm energy. Dogs can definitely sense otherwise. And you have to understand the struggle going on inside the pen involves no physical hurt to the animal. Jack’s trying to put him on the ground. The ultimate submissive position for a dog.”
Quinn controlled the large dog with what looked like an insubstantial leash looped high on the dog’s neck behind the ears. Without speaking, Quinn slowly lowered the shortened leash to the ground, forcing the dog to lower its head. If Quinn was trying to get the dog to put its entire body on the ground in submission, however, the spitz was having none of it. After a few seconds with its head lowered, it would growl and thrash and manage to get to its feet. Quietly, Quinn would begin the procedure over again. At one point, he seemed to see an opportunity to bring the dog farther down. With the spitz’s head on the ground and its eyes momentarily averted, Quinn encircled its chest and attempted to roll the dog on its back, all in a slow and silent, yet forceful, way that reminded Selena of a martial arts exercise.
Despite herself, she was now transfixed by the battle of wills between man and dog, fascinated by Quinn’s patient strength.
Not Drew.
An appalled look on his face, he suddenly hurtled toward the cage. “Stop it!” he shouted, running forward and banging on the chain link. “You’re hurting him! Stop!”
Startled, Quinn released the dog, who charged the fence, teeth bared inside the muzzle. As Andy pulled Drew back, Selena noticed that in the struggle to regain his footing, the spitz had sliced Quinn’s nostril with one of its nails. Blood flowed from the trainer’s nose onto his shirt as he slipped out of the pen, a barely restrained fury etched on his features. The spitz set up an unholy howling that reverberated throughout the compound and set the rest of the dogs barking in response. Handlers and owners could be heard, snapping commands to regain control of their animals.
Without a word, Quinn led Selena and Drew to the nearby trailer office as Andy trotted off toward the dog pack area.
Inside Quinn grabbed a bunch of tissues, pressed them to his nose, then turned to Drew. “What you did was extremely dangerous.” Although he didn’t raise his voice, his words came out clipped and careful.
Selena could see by the blood soaking the tissue that her son’s interruption had proven