Read Online Gone to the Dogs by Susan Conant - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Susan Conant
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Vince, our head trainer, and Roz, who does our advanced classes, evidently understood the word or shared my take on it, because they both stepped in to gripe about Brenner.
“Those people make me so
mad!”
said Roz, who seldom looks or acts more than quietly annoyed. In dog training, anger is useful only as a warning that it’s time to stop, and Roz is too busy to waste time on anything useless. She keeps her gray hair short and straight, wears indestructible, indistinguishable wash-and-wear clothes, and seldom seems to feel any strong emotion except love for dogs and pride in their achievements. But she can seethe if she thinksthey’re being mistreated. “Do you know what he does?” She looked slowly around at us.
“What do people expect?” Vince said. “They’re too lazy to train their own dogs, and they turn them over to someone else.”
“Fine for them,” Roz said, “But what about the dogs? They don’t deserve it, do they? And Brenner’s not the only one, either.”
“Would someone tell me who Brenner is?” Ron asked.
“You see?” Roz said. “You people haven’t even heard of Brenner, and the reason why is that you won’t catch him in an obedience ring, not on your life. You know what he tells people? ‘Oh, those AKC types. They don’t know anything.’ And what he does, Ron, is to get people to leave their dogs there, with him, supposedly to be trained, or else he charges them a fortune for private lessons with the dog, where he does all the training, if you want to call it that. What I call it is abuse, plain and simple.” Roz clenched her jaw and pinched her lips together. Her eyes flashed.
“Rubber hoses,” Vince said.
“Is that what it is?” I said. “Jesus. Mostly all I know about Brenner is that I’ve seen the ads. Off-leash training, right?”
“But doesn’t the guy have to have some kind of credentials?” Ron asked. “He must’ve done something.”
“Yeah,” Vince said. “Brenner’s credentials are that he put up a sign and took out some ads, and then he was an instant expert. And then after a while, the ads said he’d been in business a long time, and after a while, it was true enough. He had been.”
“So how did Oscar Patterson …?” I started to ask.
“Brenner’s up in that area somewhere,” Vince said. “I heard about it from Ray, because the dog that Brenner and Patterson had the fight about a couple of months back was a Clumber spaniel.”
Ray and Lynne Metcalf raise Clumber spaniels. In case you haven’t seen one—they’re fairly rare—I should mention that they have long bodies like basset hounds, massive heads, and soft, light-colored coats. A Clumber is about as tall as an English springer spaniel, but much, much heftier.
“What happened,” Vince continued, “is that Ray and Lynne sold a show pup to some people in New Hampshire, and he did a lot of winning, and they never had any trouble with him. The dog was great with kids, nice around the house, all that. Then these people heard about this off-leash training, and I guess that sounded like a good idea, and instead of asking Ray and Lynne, they just sent him to Brenner, and when they got him back, it was like they had a different dog. He flew at the woman, then he bit some kid, and then he really did a job on the guy’s face. Patterson was their vet, and he’d known the dog all along, and when he heard the story, he figured it out, and he went to Brenner’s place and socked him one in the jaw.”
“Good for him,” I said.
“So what happened to the dog?” Ron asked.
“Ask Ray,” Vince said. “Last thing I heard, they still had him. This just happened, maybe a month ago, six weeks, something like that. These people in New Hampshire didn’t want the dog anymore and, of course, Ray and Lynne took him back, and what are they going to do with him?”
“Jackie Miner took a dog to Brenner,” I said. “She had some kind of bad experience. I’m not sure what. Anyway, she had
“Those people make me so
mad!”
said Roz, who seldom looks or acts more than quietly annoyed. In dog training, anger is useful only as a warning that it’s time to stop, and Roz is too busy to waste time on anything useless. She keeps her gray hair short and straight, wears indestructible, indistinguishable wash-and-wear clothes, and seldom seems to feel any strong emotion except love for dogs and pride in their achievements. But she can seethe if she thinksthey’re being mistreated. “Do you know what he does?” She looked slowly around at us.
“What do people expect?” Vince said. “They’re too lazy to train their own dogs, and they turn them over to someone else.”
“Fine for them,” Roz said, “But what about the dogs? They don’t deserve it, do they? And Brenner’s not the only one, either.”
“Would someone tell me who Brenner is?” Ron asked.
“You see?” Roz said. “You people haven’t even heard of Brenner, and the reason why is that you won’t catch him in an obedience ring, not on your life. You know what he tells people? ‘Oh, those AKC types. They don’t know anything.’ And what he does, Ron, is to get people to leave their dogs there, with him, supposedly to be trained, or else he charges them a fortune for private lessons with the dog, where he does all the training, if you want to call it that. What I call it is abuse, plain and simple.” Roz clenched her jaw and pinched her lips together. Her eyes flashed.
“Rubber hoses,” Vince said.
“Is that what it is?” I said. “Jesus. Mostly all I know about Brenner is that I’ve seen the ads. Off-leash training, right?”
“But doesn’t the guy have to have some kind of credentials?” Ron asked. “He must’ve done something.”
“Yeah,” Vince said. “Brenner’s credentials are that he put up a sign and took out some ads, and then he was an instant expert. And then after a while, the ads said he’d been in business a long time, and after a while, it was true enough. He had been.”
“So how did Oscar Patterson …?” I started to ask.
“Brenner’s up in that area somewhere,” Vince said. “I heard about it from Ray, because the dog that Brenner and Patterson had the fight about a couple of months back was a Clumber spaniel.”
Ray and Lynne Metcalf raise Clumber spaniels. In case you haven’t seen one—they’re fairly rare—I should mention that they have long bodies like basset hounds, massive heads, and soft, light-colored coats. A Clumber is about as tall as an English springer spaniel, but much, much heftier.
“What happened,” Vince continued, “is that Ray and Lynne sold a show pup to some people in New Hampshire, and he did a lot of winning, and they never had any trouble with him. The dog was great with kids, nice around the house, all that. Then these people heard about this off-leash training, and I guess that sounded like a good idea, and instead of asking Ray and Lynne, they just sent him to Brenner, and when they got him back, it was like they had a different dog. He flew at the woman, then he bit some kid, and then he really did a job on the guy’s face. Patterson was their vet, and he’d known the dog all along, and when he heard the story, he figured it out, and he went to Brenner’s place and socked him one in the jaw.”
“Good for him,” I said.
“So what happened to the dog?” Ron asked.
“Ask Ray,” Vince said. “Last thing I heard, they still had him. This just happened, maybe a month ago, six weeks, something like that. These people in New Hampshire didn’t want the dog anymore and, of course, Ray and Lynne took him back, and what are they going to do with him?”
“Jackie Miner took a dog to Brenner,” I said. “She had some kind of bad experience. I’m not sure what. Anyway, she had
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