CHAPTER 4
I’m a brave dog. But I got nervous when Tasha parked the car outside Helper Hounds U. I saw the dogs sitting still as statues while a man weaved his wheelchair through them. When he’d stop quickly in front of a dog, none of them stretched forward to sniff the guy’s knees. That is, until their person said, “OK.” Then they leaned in and gave kisses and got pets. These dogs were good!
Tasha was nervous too. Did you know dogs can feel our people’s emotions through a leash? Well, we can. Feelings like fear or joy, being nervous or relaxed, all travel through leashes—and even the air. It’s weird but true!
Anyway, I almost never feel Tasha getting nervous, but as we trotted up to the fence where the dogs were, Tasha’s jitters jolted into me. Helper Hounds U is a big deal. Dogs that don’t pass these classes don’t get to be Helper Hounds.
To remind Tasha that she was here with the mighty Sparkplug, all handsome and smart and brave, I sat my perfect Good Boy Sit. Still as a statue. Even when Mr. Tuttle, my professor, walked up.
“You must be Sparkplug,” Mr. Tuttle said.
Mr. Tuttle smelled amazing, a mix of wet dog and hay, but also the pizza he had for lunch.
Tasha told me “OK,” so I gave Mr. Tuttle my paw. Then I sat pretty for good measure. Mr. Tuttle knelt down to pet me. Then he gave me a big hug and held on for a while. I gave him two sniffs and then settled in. I don’t mind big hugs, but lots of dogs hate them.
“Well done, Sparkplug,” Mr. Tuttle said. “Good dog.”
My mouth opened into my best smile.
Before taking me into the ring with the other dogs, Mr. Tuttle tested me on a couple of other exercises. Tasha said, “down,” and I lied down. Then she said “side,” so I rolled on to my side. Mr. Tuttle sat on the grass next to me, rubbed my belly (my favorite!), and put his head on my side and then leaned his whole body against mine.
Lots of dogs hate this too. I don’t love it, but I don’t mind. Not if it helps somebody feel better.
Mr. Tuttle petted me all over and told me what a good boy I was. He gave Tasha a thumbs-up and said, “I’m impressed.”
Tasha grabbed my leash. I felt her joy. Then we went into the ring.
I met Robber first. Today, Robber and I are buddies. We’ve gone on a million adventures together. But when I first met Robber, I didn’t know what to make of the guy. First of all, he’s huge. Robber weighs 120 pounds. That’s more than me and more than Tasha. Second of all, Robber smells like cows. No kidding! A dog that smells like a cow! Third of all, he’s got a stubby little tail. This makes it hard to know if he’s happy or nervous or just regular.
I could tell Mr. Tuttle was watching me closely though, so when Robber trotted up, I sat my Good Boy Sit. I let Robber sniff me first. Then I sniffed him. Cow, cow, and a little hint of…goose? Robber stretched his front feet forward and thrust his bottom in the air, launching into a play-bow. I followed. We had a great time jumping and slobbering on one another.
I only put my neck over his once or twice. I just wanted to show him I could be boss if I wanted to. But I didn’t want to be boss. I wanted to be a Helper Hound.
After a couple of minutes, Tasha called me over and told me to sit. I did. Perfectly.
Then Peach came over. She was about my size and easy to read. Her tail wagged nonstop. It was almost embarrassing. I mean, I know it’s great to meet me, but most dogs like to play it a little cooler than that.
Peach didn’t care. She loved meeting new people and new dogs and was happy to show it. It made me feel great, actually.
Peach and I sniffed and sniffed and sniffed. She must have rolled in some fresh skunk grass. She smelled amazing. Then we jumped and jumped and wrestled a little. Her tail never once stopped wagging. When Tasha called me over, I was panting. My tongue drooped way out the side of my mouth. Peach’s tongue drooped out too, but on her, it looked like a great big smile.
I met lots of other dogs that day too. Some dogs were new, just like me. Others, like Robber and Peach, had been Helper Hounds for a while. They came back to practice their skills.
At Helper Hounds U, we worked on commands like “leave it.” This is very important. Leave it means no matter how good that tissue on the floor smells, we ignore it. Same goes for cans or boxes or clothes or toys or anything that smells great.
“Could be dangerous, Spark.” That’s what Tasha told me. I’m pretty sure I can smell danger, but she was only looking out for me, so I worked hard on ignoring everything on the ground. No matter how interesting it looked or smelled!
We worked on cool things like listening and resting and just being calm even when people were nervous.
We didn’t just do our training on the farm, either. Sometimes we went to airports and got on airplanes. Sometimes we went to shopping malls. Sometimes we went to schools or churches. Lots of times we went to hospitals and sat still and calm while alarms sounded and people rushed around and the air fizzled with nerves.
On my last day of Helper Hounds U, the day I took my big exam, Tasha brushed my hair and kissed my head. Tasha prayed “we” would be calm and do well so that we could help others. But I was already calm as could be.
Mr. Tuttle met us outside the ring. He had a clipboard and a pen in his hands. I could hear the scratch on the paper as I went through my exercises. Perfectly, I might add.
At the end of my exam, Mr. Tuttle nodded and went into the Helper Hounds office. He came back out with a red vest and a name tag in his hands.
“Congratulations, Tasha,” Mr. Tuttle said. “You did a great job. He’s wonderful.”
Tasha knelt down and hugged me hard. Then she scratched me all over and reminded me what a Good Dog I was. As if I’d forgotten.
But I wanted Tasha to know what a Good Human she was, so I jumped and kissed her and wrapped my paws around her waist. Helper Hounds really weren’t supposed to jump, but this was a party!
Tasha got a new name tag too: one with a picture of her and me on it this time.
Tasha cried when she put the old name tag—the one of her and a dog named Noser—in her drawer. But I knew just what to do. My very first job as an official, name-tag-wearing Helper Hound was to lean into Tasha as she cried. I snuggled close and then licked her face. She laughed. I barked. I helped!
Today, as a proud member of the Helper Hounds, I travel all over the place—sometimes by car, sometimes by airplane, sometimes with Robber, Peach, and the other Helper Hounds, and sometimes with just Tasha. We help people who need a little love or encouragement or just a dog to cry on or to pet.
Being a Helper Hound is better than rounding up sheep all day. It’s better than solving mysteries. Being a Helper Hound is the Best Job Ever. I get to do what I’m good at and I’ve learned so many cool tricks. Which I get to teach other people—like Mary! Let’s get back to her story.
