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vet?”
    “Funaki.”
    “Mai’s the best. I’ll want copies of his medical records for my files.”
    “I’ll get them to you.”
    “You’ll want to buy some small dog treats—the sort he can just chomp down rather than the bigger ones he’d need to stop and chew. Instant gratification. You’ll want a head collar and a leash in addition to his regular collar.”
    “I had a leash. He—”
    “Ate it,” Fiona finished. “It’s common enough.”
    “Great. Head collar? Like a muzzle?”
    She read Simon’s face clearly enough and was unsurprised when she saw him considering the idea of a muzzle. And was pleased when she noted his rejecting frown.
    “No. It’s like a halter, and it’s gentle and effective. You’ll use it during training sessions here and at home. Instead of putting pressure on the throat, it puts pressure—gentle pressure—on calming points. It helps persuade a dog to walk rather than lunge and pull, to heel. And it’ll give him more control as well as put you more in tune with your pup.”
    “Fine. Whatever works.”
    “I’d advise you to replace or repair the crate and lay in a very big supply of chew toys and rawhide. The rope’s pretty much no-fail, but you’ll want tennis balls, rawhide bones, that sort of thing. I’ll give you a basic list of recommendations and requirements for training. I’ve got a class in . . .” She checked her watch. “Crap. Thirty minutes. And I didn’t call Syl.”
    As Jaws began to leap and try to climb up her leg, she simply bent over, pushed his rump to the ground. “Sit.” Because she didn’t have a reward, she crouched, held him in place to pet and praise. “You might as well stay if you’ve got the time. I’ll sign you up.”
    “I don’t have a million dollars on me.”
    She released the pup, picked him up to cuddle. “Got thirty?”
    “Probably.”
    “Thirty for a thirty-minute group session. He’s, what, about three months old?”
    “About.”
    “We’ll make it work. It’s an eight-week course. You’re two behind. I’ll juggle in two individual sessions to bring him up to speed. Does that work for you?”
    Simon shrugged. “It’s cheaper than a new truck.”
    “Considerably. I’ll lend you a leash and a head collar for now.” Still carrying the puppy, she walked to the house.
    “What if I paid you fifty, and you worked with him solo?”
    She spared him a glance. “That’s not what I do. He’s not the only one who needs training.” She led him into the house before passing the puppy back to him. “You can come on back. I’ve got some extra leashes and collars, and you need some treats. I have to make a phone call.”
    She veered off the kitchen to the utility room, where collars and leashes and brushes hung neatly according to type and size, and various toys and treats sat organized on shelves.
    It made him think of a small pet boutique.
    She gave Jaws another glance as he squirmed in Simon’s arms and tried to gnaw on his master’s hand.
    “Do this.”
    She turned to the pup and, using her forefinger and thumb, gently closed his mouth. “No.” And keeping her eyes on the dog’s, she reached behind her, took a rawhide chew toy shaped like a bone. “This is yours.” When he clamped it, she nodded. “Good dog! Go ahead and set him down. When he chews on you, or something else he shouldn’t, do what I did. Correct, give him a vocal command and replace with what’s his. Give positive reinforcement. Consistently. Find a leash and a collar for him.”
    She stepped out into the kitchen, grabbed the phone and hit her stepmother’s number on speed dial. “Crap,” she muttered when it shifted to voice mail. “Syl, I hope you’re not already on your way. I got distracted and forgot to call. I’m home. We found the little boy. He’s fine. Decided to chase a rabbit and got lost, but no worse for wear. Anyway, if you’re on your way, I’ll see you here. If not, thanks for the standby, and I’ll call you