White Picket Fences. Tara Quinn Taylor
does he do?” A long-haired young man asked curiously, pointing at Bear.
“Gives people someone to identify with,” Zack said with a smile, although he was absolutely serious.
“He shows them how to grow old without fear.”
A couple of girls in the front row nodded.
“You’ll be working in pairs,” Zack continued. “We’ll have a total of five dogs, one for each pair of you. The dogs have all been through obedience classes and rigorous health screenings. They’re all veteran therapists.”
“Do we get training, too?” A young man with a blond crewcut asked.
Zack shook his head, looking up as his peripheral vision caught movement in the back of the classroom. Randi was doing some kind of stretching thing, her right arm bent and pulled behind her head, her left hand grasping the elbow and pushing it farther.
Her breasts, as firm as everything else about her, were thrown into prominence, garnering a reaction from Zack that he didn’t appreciate. Dammit, why couldn’t the woman just pay attention?
“Uh, no,” he said slowly, forcing himself to focus on the job at hand. “You’re basically escorts. You take the animals into the predetermined rooms and then stand back while the animals do their jobs. There may be times when you need to participate, perhaps talk to the patients, but that would entail no more than casual conversation.”
Randi was looking down again, studying her kneecaps, as far as Zack could tell. He felt a twinge of envy that she could study those legs any time she pleased.
“One visit last semester, we had a woman who refused to take her pills. She wouldn’t let any one of the staff near her. After half an hour with Sammie, she’d relaxed enough to let Sammie’s escort hand her the pills and a cup of water and she took every one of them without complaint.”
“Cool.” The long-haired fellow nodded his head.
“These dogs do a lot of cool things,” Zack said.
“Scientific studies have proved that petting a dog can lower blood pressure. Dogs have been successfully used to alleviate depression. Pets have even been shown to lengthen the life span of their owners.
“For our patients, they often provide comfort and companionship in days that are otherwise relentlessly the same.”
At the back of the room, there was movement again. Randi was now sitting on her hands, and her attention seemed to be moving up. Her gaze was set on the back of the heavy girl’s head.
“We’ve also had success with patients who are struggling with memory deficiencies. In several cases, an individual hasn’t remembered a dog’s escort or his own caregivers’ names, but he’s always remembered the dog’s name.”
After another fifteen minutes, Zack wrapped up his introduction and turned the meeting back to Randi to schedule the dates of their visits. These kids all seemed eager, receptive. But then, they usually were at Montford.
He’d call the nursing homes in the morning to let them know when they’d be coming. And he’d check on the other dogs’ availability, as well. Sammie and Bear were a given, but the other dogs he used had owners whose schedules he had to accommodate.
They were going to have a great semester.
“If we can’t fit in all five visits…”
Amend that. They were going to have a great semester—maybe.
Zack stepped forward, Sammie stood, turned two circles and barked.
“We’re completely open on the dates,” he said, “subject to your availability and that of the dogs. Weekdays, weekends, evenings. That’s the thing about old folks in nursing homes. They’re pretty much always there.”
Looking annoyed, Randi nodded. “So, I know you all have busy schedules. Some of you are graduating in May. Most of you will have projects and other activities that take up your time.” She paused to let that sink in while Zack bored a hole in her head with his eyes.
He’d love to get his hands on that sleek neck of hers.
Actually, he’d like to get his hands anywhere on that body of hers….
“So, how many of you think you’ll actually be able to handle five visits?”
Zack was happy to note a unanimous show of hands.
“Or we could try for three or four,” Randi said.
Could the woman not count?
“No, five’s good,” someone said.
“Five’s not a problem.”
“I’d like to do more than five. Could we talk about that?” another student asked.
“Five it is, then,” Randi interrupted quickly. She stared down at her leather-bound day planner. Mesmerized by the pulse beating in her neck, Zack listened while the dates were agreed upon. He didn’t smile. Not once.
At least not so anyone could see.
As each date was confirmed, she fidgeted a little more. A finger tapping the page of her planner. One foot tapping silently on the floor. Finally she began chewing on her lower lip in a way that Zack found rather disconcerting.
He no longer felt like smiling.
“YOU BUSY?”
Randi looked up from the scouting report she was reading in her office to see Zack Foster standing there.
The very person she’d been trying to avoid thinking about. She certainly didn’t want to see him. Especially in her private sanctum. The room was too small for both of them.
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