The Search Read Online Free PDF Page B

cute. But . . . interesting, and the few times she’d smiled? Almost arresting. Almost.
    He dumped a spoon of sugar from a squat white bowl in one mug, picked up the other.
    He took his first sip looking out her over-the-sink window, then turned when he heard her boot steps. She moved briskly, with an efficiency that hinted at athleticism. Wiry, he thought, as much as lanky.
    He saw her shift her gaze down, followed it and saw Jaws circle and squat.
    Simon opened his mouth, but before he could yell Hey! , his usual response, Fiona tossed the folder she carried on the counter and clapped her hands twice, sharply.
    The sound startled Jaws out of his squat.
    She moved fast, scooping up the pup with one hand, grabbing the leash with the other. “Good dog, Jaws, good dog. Let’s go out . Time to go out . Pantry, second shelf, canister with mini-treats, grab a handful,” she ordered Simon, and clipped the leash on the collar as she headed out the back door.
    The three dogs whooshed after her in a flurry of fur and paws.
    He found her gnome-sized pantry as scarily organized as the drawers, dug out a handful of little dog cookies the size of his knuckle from a big glass jar. Hooking the mug handles in one hand, he walked outside.
    She still carried the dog, with her long legs eating up the short distance to the edge of trees that guarded the back of her property. By the time she put Jaws down Simon caught up.
    “Stop.” She stopped the pup from attacking the leash, rubbed his head. “Look at the big guys, Jaws! What are the big guys doing?” She turned him, walked a few steps.
    Obviously, the pup was more interested in the dogs, currently sniffing, lifting legs, sniffing, than the leash. He bounded after them.
    “I’m giving him some slack. Thanks.” Fiona took the coffee, drank deep, sighed. “Praise Jesus. Okay, you’re going to want to pick a regular spot for your Pooptown. You don’t want land mines all over your property. So you consistently take him where you want him to go. Then he’ll just start going there. You’re the one who has to be vigilant and consistent. He’s just a baby, so that means you’re going to have to take him out several times a day. As soon as he wakes up in the morning and before you go to bed at night, every time he eats.”
    In his mind’s eye, Simon saw his life becoming a revolving door swinging at the whims of the dog’s elimination needs.
    “And when he does what he’s supposed to do,” Fiona continued, “be thrilled. Positive reinforcement—lavish. He wants to please you. Wants to be praised and rewarded. See there, the big guys are going, so he’s not going to be outdone.”
    Simon shook his head. “When I take him out, he spends an hour sniffing, rolling and screwing around, then cuts loose five seconds after I take him back in.”
    “Show him. You’re a guy. Whip it out and pee.”
    “Now?”
    She laughed—and yeah, he thought, almost arresting. “No, but in the privacy of your own. Here.” She handed him the leash. “Get down to his level, call him. Happy, happy! Use his name, then when he comes, make over him, give him one of the treats.”
    He felt stupid, making happy noises because his dog shit in the woods, but thinking of the countless piles he’d cleaned off his floors, he followed instructions.
    “Well done. Let’s try a basic command before the others get here. Jaws.” She took hold of him to turn his attention, stroked him until he’d calmed down. She took one of the treats Simon held, palmed it in her left hand, then lifted her right over the pup’s head, extended her index finger. “Jaws, sit. Sit!” As she spoke, she moved her finger over his head so he looked up, trying to follow it. And his butt hit the ground.
    “Good dog! Good!” She fed him, petted him, praised him. “Repeat, repeat. He’ll automatically look up, and when he does the back of him goes down. As soon as he sits, praise, reward. Once he gets that, you try it with just