Good With Children. Margot Early
Rory and Lauren were due back, he and Beau put the dough onto two pizza pans and began assembling toppings. Belle was playing on the floor in the other room with Caleb and the puppy.
From the kitchen, Seamus heard her shriek and then howl.
He hurried to the living room, Beau right behind him, and found Belle hugging herself and sobbing, “He bit me!” Seuss was cowering under the dining table.
Seamus saw, with something like horror, that indeed there was a small puncture mark on his daughter’s arm.
“You were bugging him!” Caleb said.
Seamus didn’t know what to do about a puppy bite. What if this meant he had a vicious dog on his hands?
He said, “Let’s put Seuss in his crate.” He walked to the dining room table and scooped the puppy from beneath it.
Seuss looked as if he didn’t understand at all what it was that he’d done.
Seamus reached for Belle and picked her up. I’ve hardly held this child, he thought, as he had so many times in the past forty-eight hours, since Fiona had left for Baja. “Now, calm down and tell me what happened. Then, we’ll wash off your arm.”
Belle’s sobs became hiccups and finally stopped. Seamus examined the bite again. Just one tiny puncture wound. Did he need to take her to the clinic? It was an animal bite, after all. Seuss had received all his shots, but still…
“He probably was teething on her,” Beau said. “He does that to me a lot.” He held out his hand and pointed to a small scab. “His teeth are sharp. They’re puppy teeth, and that’s why they’re so sharp.”
Seamus wondered what his son’s authority was for this statement.
Caleb said, “Belle was climbing around and jumping over Seuss and stuff, and he was excited, and he growled a little and bit her. It looked like he was playing.”
“He probably was,” Beau said.
“Well, let’s go wash your arm, Belle,” Seamus decided.
He was just applying a Band-Aid when the front door opened.
Belle followed her father down the hall to the front room. “Lauren, Seuss bit me!”
“He did what?” Lauren asked.
Rory sank down on the couch to listen to the story of the puppy bite.
Seamus turned to her. “Should I take her to the clinic?”
Rory eyed the wound, which Belle was showing Lauren, and shook her head. She was exhausted, and hungry, but she couldn’t ignore the situation that had presented itself.
Seamus Lee had chosen to acquire a dog that would grow to be large and powerful. That meant he was going to have to train the dog and his children, and he was going to have to supervise his children with the dog during the process.
Dog training is not part of my job description, she thought with some irritation.
But could she turn her back on this?
She remembered her beloved Gandalf.
She could not stand to see such a dog ruined by not receiving the training he needed. So many dogs ended their lives in shelters because no one had helped them learn rules for living with people.
“He needs to be in obedience class,” she said.
“There probably isn’t one in Sultan,” Seamus remarked. “Is there?”
I can’t do it all. I can’t do everything! But she probably knew more about German shepherds than anyone else in Sultan. “I’ll see what I can find out. Look, all of you have to discourage him from chewing on people. He probably nipped Belle, and those milk teeth are sharp.”
“Like I said,” Beau put in.
“Here, let’s let him out.” She sat on the floor and opened the crate. The puppy tumbled out, scrambling into her lap. He began licking her hands, then teething on one of them. Rory firmly and gently closed his jaw with her hand, lifted his head so that his eyes met hers, and growled, soft and low. Then, she released him. When he sat comfortably in her lap again, she petted him and said, “Good boy.” Briefly, she gave them some guidelines for correcting the puppy, then said, “But I’m not a dog trainer, and you need to take this puppy to school. I recommend lots of obedience lessons. Dogs usually like them, and the training helps all of you learn to be consistent.”
Seamus said ruefully, “I didn’t realize a dog would be so much work.”
She shouldn’t say it. It was too opinionated. They wouldn’t like her if she said it.
But she had to say it, because Seuss was a good puppy and had a chance of becoming a great dog. “If you’re not prepared to put in the time, you should return him to the breeder. It’s not fair to him, and you just can’t have an animal like this and not train him.”
“I’ll train him,” Beau said. “We’re not taking him back. I’ll train him.”
Rory believed him. There was a steadiness to Beau that she liked and admired. But she knew the conversation about the dog was not over. Someone also needed to speak to Seamus about supervising Seuss with his children and their playmates and with teaching his children how to treat the puppy.
Her instincts told her to stay out of the situation, to keep her mouth shut. But this wasn’t for the usual reason—that saying too much tended to get her in trouble.
It was because, as Seamus Lee had put her skis on the car that day, she’d felt that mysterious whisper of being cared for, being looked after, being cherished. The whisper had suggested a future—an imaginary future, just happy thoughts in her mind, about a man like Seamus caring for her. Wanting to make a Ki-Rin character for her. Yet she couldn’t afford to think that way, even casually. She wanted so badly to succeed at this job, to earn her father’s esteem.
She needed to back off from Seamus Lee and his family—from their emotional lives.
Yet, damn it, someone had to talk to him about the dog.
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