Its been a year now since I brought home Max, our three-year-old German Shepherd. After a month of training as a dog handler, I was assigned him. Max had already been shuffled between three different handlersstrictly business, never quite settling in. At first, others considered posting him to a checkpoint, but in the end, he landed with me, still an apprentice at the time. For some reason, no one wanted to keep Max; he was wary, not keen on obeying orders. There was even talk about just leaving him in the kennels and only bringing him out when really needed. But both my husband and I come from families of dog lovers, so we decided we could manage.
In those early days, feeding Max was a production: I had to use a coal shovel to push his food bowl into his run. I half-expected an icy stare or worse each time. But, funny enough, a dog’s heart can melt faster than you think. Over the year, Max changed so much I could barely recognise him. Our youngest, Jamie, was only a year and a half when spring came round. I was out in the back garden sorting out the usual mess after winter, with Jamie toddling around and Annie, our daughter, still at nursery.
Ill never forget what I saw thenJamie darting through the soggy garden beds, Max trailing behind. Whenever Jamie tripped and plopped onto the soft earth, Max gently grabbed the back of his coat and lifted him up. It was like hed found his purpose at last.
Now, my husband, Robert, rarely drinks, but the head of security at his work was retiring, so the wine was flowing like the Thames. Robert landed on protective duty and decided to see the boss off himself.
It got latepast eleven by the time I was sitting on the porch, phone in hand, trying to ring Robert. No answer. Of course, my mind ran wild; what if he tried to cross the river, toppled in, and drowned in his state? Just as I was about to dash out and look for him, I saw the garden gate swing open. In trotted Max with Robert staggering behind, half-asleep, still on Maxs lead. Max saw him safely up to the porch. When Robert slumped on the bench, Max dropped at my feet and gave me a look that was dripping with sarcasmif thats possible from a dog.
Ive never seen anything like itsuch wry exasperation coming from canine eyes. And I still tease Robert about the night Max had to fetch him home, rather than the other way round.
