Trained to Protect

by Linda O. Johnston

  Unless, of course, those allegations against her as a therapy dog handler wound up following her.

  And acceptance by other Chance residents she’d met? At the top of the list, of course, was Doug.

  Kind K-9 handler Doug.

  Almost as if she had called him with her thoughts, he suddenly appeared in the kitchen doorway, Hooper unsurprisingly at his side. As Peace and Lola barked and hurried toward them, Peace wagging her tail wildly, he said, “Hope it’s okay that I let myself in.” He looked down at the table then to Amber. “Any coffee there for me?”

  “Sit down,” their hostess said with a laugh. “I’m surprised neither of our dogs let us know before now that you were sneaking in here, but then, neither of them are K-9s like yours, and our future K-9s next door are still in training. Besides, these two know and trust you. Anyway, there’s a sweet roll for you, too, if you’d like.”

  Both dogs had quieted down and seemed quite content interacting with Hooper.

  “I’d like.” Doug sat and reached for a roll. Only then did he aim his glance toward Elissa. “Everything set for your class?”

  “It sure is,” she said.

  Everything was definitely ready now and Elissa couldn’t wait to get started.

  Chapter 10

  It was nearly eleven o’clock. Doug waited in the main ranch house’s living room along with Elissa and the Belotts, as well as all their dogs—although the younger dogs being trained to become K-9s were still in the nearby den.

  One potential therapy student had arrived with her dog, and they were waiting for a few more—including his sister.

  Hooper had settled down beside Lola on an area rug on the room’s hardwood floor, though Elissa kept Peace beside where she sat on a light blue chair facing the sofa where everyone else was seated. Elissa made friends with Barker, a Doberman mix brought by the therapy student—a college-aged, eager-appearing girl named Kim Boyd.

  Doug, at one end of the sofa, watched Elissa. He had almost convinced himself he had come partly for her protection and partly to observe this session to get an idea what she would do as a therapy dog instructor. He deemed it unlikely she would have any issues during her first class, even if the claims made against her were even a tiny bit true.

  But he realized he was getting into a bad habit—hanging out with Elissa as much as possible.

  Protecting her, at least, was related to his job, he kept telling himself. But he was doing a poor job of convincing himself.

  Too bad Uncle Cy wasn’t there. But he lived, and worked, in Riverside, California. He almost never visited Chance. Probably a good thing right now, at least. He’d be telling Doug to start acting more professionally. Fast.

  But Doug was glad he had come—for multiple reasons.

  For one thing, almost as soon as he had sat at the table, Elissa let him know that she had told Amber and Sonya about the latest issue in her life. He was pleased, and a little surprised, that she had approached it herself.

  The doorbell rang and Sonya hurried to answer it. A minute later a familiar voice called, “Hi, everyone.” Griffin preceded Maisie into the room, and she let go of his leash so he could greet Hooper then the rest of the dogs. Maisie spotted Doug immediately and, after saying hi to Elissa and Peace, headed in his direction.

  “Hi, bro.” She took the seat beside him. She wasn’t wearing her uniform today, although he was—with his jacket still in his car. “So how are things?” she asked quietly.

  “Satisfactory, at least for now.” Though there were some things he wanted to catch her up on, this wasn’t the time or place.

  “So are you really wanting to turn Hooper into a therapy dog?” Maisie’s low voice not only rang with skepticism but he heard amusement, too.

  “Maybe someday, like your Griffin,” he said, his tone more somber. “When he’s no longer a K-9. Or maybe I just want to observe Elissa in therapy-dog-trainer mode. I intend to figure out how a therapy session could go wrong enough to cause a skilled nurse who’s also a dog handler to get fired, assuming that was really what happened.”

  “Yeah, I kind of figured that and think it’s a good idea, considering everything going wrong around that particular trainer, though I question your motives.”

  The doorbell rang before Doug could justify his highly professional motives to his sister—or at least try to convince her, without fully convincing himself.

  Sonya left the room again and, in a minute, returned with three more students for Elissa’s first class, two men and a woman, each accompanied by a dog. One looked like a French bulldog mix, and another a yellow Labrador retriever mix. Doug figured they’d both be nice and friendly and potentially excellent therapy dogs.

  The third was a Jack Russell terrier already pulling at the end of his leash. A kind dog who’d help soothe people in trouble or in pain? A cute animal who’d amuse them and make them feel better? Well, possibly the latter. Doug might doubt this was a potentially great therapy dog, but he’d be interested in seeing how things went.

  The newly arrived dogs bounded toward those already there—a probable indication that they all required a lot of training. Griffin stood and walked in their direction, but not Hooper. Odd. His K-9 tended to be friendly except when following commands. But he sat there almost as if in alert mode—until a couple of the newcomers hurried toward where the people already in the room, dogs at their sides, now stood.

  “Hi,” the woman said. “Can I give your dogs some treats?”

  “Me, too,” the man said. He knelt on the floor, petting Griffin, then Hooper. Not good, but Doug didn’t object since this wasn’t an official K-9 event.

  “Since our dogs aren’t on duty now, that’s fine,” Maisie said, and Doug agreed.

  The guy stood fairly quickly and both of them showed Doug and Maisie they held standard store-bought treats. By then, Hooper was standing, too, sniffing the air in their direction and wagging his tail like the other dogs.

  He told his dog “okay” when Hooper looked at him, and Hooper grabbed some treats. Peace, still beside Elissa, also received some of their goodies.

  Apparently this was the full class Elissa anticipated that day. Already standing by her chair, she called, “Hi, everyone. Welcome. We’ll get started soon.”

  She glanced toward Doug. He was sure she didn’t want his permission to start but the look she levied on him seemed full of poise and challenge, as if she dared him to say something contrary. He kept quiet.

  He wondered, though, whether those friendly people, who apparently wanted to impress other dogs as well as their teacher by providing treats first thing, would do well in the class—and how well they’d be able to work with their own dogs.

  Well, he would soon have a better idea.

  Elissa first went around the room, asking everyone to identify themselves and their dogs. Kim Boyd, who’d arrived earlier with Barker, her Doberman mix, had already introduced herself to those who’d been there but she spoke up again. Jill Jacobs, the female treat-bearer, was the other woman, and she was with Astro, the Jack Russell. The man who’d also offered treats was Paul Wilson, and the French bull, Ollie, was his. The other man was Jim Curtis, accompanied by the yellow Lab mix, Bandit.

  “Great to have you all here,” Elissa said. “Now, just so you know, this first session will be very informal and informational. We’ll discuss what therapy dogs are all about—all the many ways they can be used to help people, and how they’re trained to do so. We’ll also talk about how they differ from service dogs. We’ll start checking your dogs for their strengths and weaknesses as potential therapy dogs, too, though that will mostly be determined in our upcoming classes. I gather they’re all over a year old?”

  She looked at each of the students, and they nodded.

  “Good. That’s the requirement for therapy dog certification. Now, Sonya has graciously agreed to provide us some refres
hments—coffee and water, and some wonderful cinnamon rolls that I’ve already tasted. That’s for today only. We won’t have time to eat or drink in our more active classes—though that won’t be true for our dogs in training, since they’ll often be given treats. Everyone okay with that?”

  Everyone was. As a result, they were all invited into the kitchen to get their drinks and rolls, and those who hadn’t brought any could also pick up a few dog treats. They were told to just leave their dogs in the living room since Amber would remain with them.

  Doug held back with Maisie, and they were the last to get their refreshments, although when they got there Sonya hovered over the kitchen counter handing out drinks. Eventually, everyone had picked out what they’d wanted and all returned to the living room.

  “Great,” Elissa said. “Let’s get started.”

  * * *

  Elissa had pondered about how best to run a class like this since a lot of her prior teaching sessions had been with only one potential handler. But she’d held classes before, too. She’d decided that the best way to begin it would be with a description of some wonderful ways therapy dogs had been trained and utilized to help people and their states of mind.

  While everyone sat on the sofa and a few extra chairs Amber brought in, Elissa stood and reviewed the notes she’d printed out.

  She couldn’t help glancing toward Doug and Maisie. They both watched her, and she smiled somewhat tremulously. Okay, they made her nervous, especially Doug. He helped her—but he was also studying her. Possibly investigating her.

  His sister might be doing so, too, which added to Elissa’s nervousness, yet she somehow didn’t care as much whether Maisie believed her about why she was put on leave or anything else.

  Which she recognized as foolish. Maisie was also a cop. Her belief—or doubt—about Elissa could be equally important in figuring out what was happening to her, and why.

  Still, Elissa decided to begin a little differently than she had originally planned—not just talk about how wonderful therapy dogs could be in a variety of difficult situations, but instead get a discussion going about how dogs contributed in more ways to helping people.

  Starting with Doug.

  “I’ll begin with something a little off topic,” she said. “Officer Doug Murran, please tell us about your partner Hooper and how he helps you in police investigations and other situations as a K-9.”

  She noticed that Evan had slipped into the living room along with his dog Bear. Elissa had learned from Amber that Bear was a retired military K-9 who now assisted Evan with his police K-9 classes...along with helping his trainer and best friend with his waning PTSD. Evan, too, was teaching dog training classes this week, as he always did—though not for therapy dogs. Maybe he could participate in this discussion.

  First, though, she was both amused and pleased when Doug rose, putting his hand on top of Hooper’s head as the dog sat beside him on the area rug. “What does Hooper do? Anything and everything I need.” Looking into Elissa’s eyes, he said, “Including investigating sites where something bad is alleged to have happened, like a break-in, and using his extraordinary sense of scent to figure out where and how.”

  Elissa felt herself smile fondly. “Yes, I’m aware of his skill in doing that. Very aware. What else?”

  Doug continued to play along, enumerating other instances where Hooper had helped him find bad guys, their weapons, other ammunition, drugs and more.

  “Griffin’s good at such things, too,” he finally said, looking at his sister.

  Maisie fortunately seemed to be playing along. “That’s my wonderful K-9,” she said, and likewise described some situations where her golden had also ferreted out bad guys and more. “He’s saved my life a couple of times, as well,” she concluded and then, at Elissa’s urging, told about instances where some suspects had gotten the drop on her and Griffin had attacked, bringing them down before they could shoot Maisie or anyone else.

  “They’re wonderful,” Elissa couldn’t help saying, wanting to hug both dogs now lying on the floor at their handlers’ feet. And maybe one of those handlers, too—No. She might need to rely on him for her safety, but that was all.

  “And I’d love to add to that,” she continued, “but first I’ll tell you how therapy dogs are different from service dogs.” She explained briefly how service dogs weren’t considered pets as therapy dogs were, but were trained from early in their lives to work with people with a specific need or disability, from mental illness to physical problems like blindness. “Some even sense when their owners are about to have a seizure.”

  The students all seemed impressed, but it was time to move on.

  “Now I’ll tell you about some of the many possibilities you’ll have when your dogs are trained as therapy dogs,” Elissa said. She briefly described some of her own experiences at hospitals, mostly helping ill or injured children focus on something besides their pain at least for a while—on warm, loving dogs who gave attention and love and distracted the kids.

  “And outside of hospitals, therapy dogs help children in many other ways, too, including even encouraging them to learn to read. But more about that later. Therapy dogs do similar kinds of things with injured military veterans who aren’t disabled enough to require service dogs but may have mild PTSD or other issues where focusing on a warm, caring animal can help. There are therapy dogs who also go to facilities for seniors. They can help people get their minds off their disabilities or difficulties just by being friendly and fetching toys or even just snuggling.”

  “That’s why I’m here,” Kim said, leaning from her chair to give Barker a hug.

  “Me, too,” added Jill. “I’m just hoping both Astro and I can learn enough from you to slow him down. He’s a bundle of energy, but also maybe the most caring and loving dog in the world.”

  Not exactly contradictory, but Elissa realized Astro might be a bit of a challenge in her classes. She’d do her best to try to help Jill prepare him for therapy work. But he might simply not be appropriate for it, as many dogs weren’t. Therapy dogs had to care for and bond with people, even strangers. She hoped Astro would show himself to be that kind of caring once he slowed down.

  “No problem with Ollie,” Paul said with a shrug and a smile. “My guy is a people dog.”

  “Same with Bandit, despite his name.” Jim also grinned.

  “Great.” Elissa continued her description, moving her gaze from one dog to the next. They were all behaving well—at least for now. She told the students that they could choose the type and location of therapy that worked best for them and their dogs. “We’ll keep these classes general for now, but if you wind up with specific questions, feel free to ask. First, though—Evan, could you tell us a bit about Bear and his military K-9 training?”

  Evan obliged and also added, “You may have heard that I returned to the US with a mild case of PTSD. Bear wasn’t ever trained as a service dog or a therapy dog, but he definitely helps me when I have an episode.” He even described a couple of instances that made Elissa smile.

  When she started talking again, it was all about therapy dogs once more. Then it was time for questions, including getting facilities like hospitals to allow dogs inside. These days, Elissa informed them, it wasn’t particularly hard since those places were now well aware of how much therapy dogs could brighten the moods of their patients.

  “I know you’ll help us train our dogs,” Jill said, “but I want to hear more about the requirement of qualifying that you mentioned.”

  “I plan to get into more detail later, but here’s the introduction.” Elissa explained that there were a lot of well-qualified organizations, often recognized by the American Kennel Club, that tested and then, hopefully, certified a dog to be a therapy dog. “Various hospitals and other locales allowing therapy dogs generally choose which kind of approval they require, so that’s always a factor to consider, t
oo.”

  Eventually, Elissa believed she’d provided enough of an introduction. “How about a demonstration of how a therapy dog works?” she said. She’d noticed Evan slip out the door during the questions, which was a shame. With his admitted mild case of PTSD, she figured he’d be a good one to assist her now, too. But with him gone... “Officer Doug Murran, would you be willing to help out?” She could have chosen Maisie Murran, or even Amber or her mother, but somehow she felt Doug would do the best acting job—as long as he didn’t feel uncomfortable or embarrassed.

  “Sure,” he said, rising. “Now, am I an injured police officer, or some kind of mentally ill fellow in a hospital for treatment?”

  Thrilled that he was playing along so well, Elissa said, “You choose.”

  “I think for now I’ll have been shot in the arm in the line of duty and feel angry and depressed.”

  Damn, he was good. He seemed actually to know something about therapy dogs and what they did.

  Sure enough, when she had him sit on her chair and adopt the emotions he’d mentioned, he seemed to be one nasty, irritable guy till, on her orders, Peace came over and nuzzled him, distracting him, bringing over the tennis ball Elissa had given her and demanding by her actions that Doug play with her—in all, getting his attention till Doug stroked Elissa’s smart and delightful dog and also tossed the ball a couple of times.

  “Guess I’m therapied,” Doug finally said.

  “You are. Thanks so much.” Elissa wanted to hug him the way he had hugged her dog. And, fortunately, well-trained Hooper hadn’t acted jealous. She turned back to her class. “Now, there’s a lot to learn on your part and your dog’s till you can do all that. We’ll start working on the basics at our next class. On Wednesday?” She glanced at Amber, who nodded.

  It wouldn’t have been scheduled this soon if she still had her nursing job, Elissa reminded herself. Maybe it was for the best.

  Except for those horrible, false allegations hanging over her.