Nero,” replied Wes, “a four-year-old yellow Lab, neutered, approximately sixty-five pounds, tattoo number 6520034. Is that correct?”
“That’s him,” I said, and released a huge sigh of relief. “Thank goodness.” Nero. That explained why he had appeared to respond to his name when I called him Hero. Although dogs can eventually learn to recognize hundreds of very specific words and associate their meanings, names for them are just sounds. Nero and Hero, to a dog, sound almost exactly the same.
“But I’m afraid I don’t understand. You said you found him? Ms. White has been an excellent partner for Nero and I can’t imagine him leaving her under any circumstances. I just checked our overnight messages and there was nothing about Nero being missing. Could you tell me where he was found?”
I set down the coffee cup from which I had been about to take a self-congratulatory sip, wincing at the unpleasant duty I now had to perform. I said, “He didn’t leave her, Mr. Richards. At least not on purpose.”
As briefly as I could, I described how the yellow Lab had ended up with me. There was a shocked silence when I finished.
Finally he murmured, “How . . . dreadful. I don’t think anyone here would have guessed that she was unstable. . . . I mean, of course no one did, or we never would have placed the dog. We have very high standards. I just . . . don’t know what to say.”
“The police will be calling you for information on the owner. Up until now, we haven’t had any way of identifying her.”
“Oh,” he said distractedly. “Yes, of course, whatever you need. Her name was Michelle White. Everyone called her Mickey. We’re a small agency, Miss Stockton, and we keep very close track of our placements. We require them to come in once a year for evaluation and what we like to call fine-tuning of the training.” Now that he was talking about dogs, not death, his voice began to take on more confidence. I understood this completely.
“You know, as a team works together they discover certain quirks or peculiarities, and sometimes the handler will develop special needs that we try to address by refining a behavior or even teaching a whole new set of behaviors. The relationship between a person with disabilities and his dog is an ever-changing, ever-evolving one, and at Coastal Assistance Dogs we provide ongoing support.” He seemed to stop himself. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I’m rambling. You’re not interested in all that. It’s all just—such a shock.”
“I’m very interested,” I told him. “I’m a dog trainer myself. Mostly search and rescue, and some local therapydog work. I’ve never tried anything as complicated as training a service dog, though.”
“Our dogs are in training for two years before we place them,” he explained, seeming to relax again now that he knew he was talking to a “dog” person. “Then we work with the handler and the dog one-on-one for up to six weeks before we send them home, depending on the needs of the person with whom we’re placing the dog. For the first year, we do home visits every three months, and after that we ask the team to return to the training center for evaluation once a year.”
“When was Mickey White last in?”
I could hear the tapping of a keyboard. “August,” he said after a moment. “And there’s absolutely no notation here that either the trainer or the social worker noticed anything out of the ordinary. She was very happy with Nero, and Nero was working out even better than we had hoped. Of course, she understood that as her condition continued to deteriorate, she would depend on her dog more and more, and it was very important that we continue to refine his training.”
“She had a deteriorating condition?” I said, wondering whether the deterioration had been progressing faster than she had expected, and whether that had led to the despair that caused her to pull the trigger. “Can you tell me what it
“That’s him,” I said, and released a huge sigh of relief. “Thank goodness.” Nero. That explained why he had appeared to respond to his name when I called him Hero. Although dogs can eventually learn to recognize hundreds of very specific words and associate their meanings, names for them are just sounds. Nero and Hero, to a dog, sound almost exactly the same.
“But I’m afraid I don’t understand. You said you found him? Ms. White has been an excellent partner for Nero and I can’t imagine him leaving her under any circumstances. I just checked our overnight messages and there was nothing about Nero being missing. Could you tell me where he was found?”
I set down the coffee cup from which I had been about to take a self-congratulatory sip, wincing at the unpleasant duty I now had to perform. I said, “He didn’t leave her, Mr. Richards. At least not on purpose.”
As briefly as I could, I described how the yellow Lab had ended up with me. There was a shocked silence when I finished.
Finally he murmured, “How . . . dreadful. I don’t think anyone here would have guessed that she was unstable. . . . I mean, of course no one did, or we never would have placed the dog. We have very high standards. I just . . . don’t know what to say.”
“The police will be calling you for information on the owner. Up until now, we haven’t had any way of identifying her.”
“Oh,” he said distractedly. “Yes, of course, whatever you need. Her name was Michelle White. Everyone called her Mickey. We’re a small agency, Miss Stockton, and we keep very close track of our placements. We require them to come in once a year for evaluation and what we like to call fine-tuning of the training.” Now that he was talking about dogs, not death, his voice began to take on more confidence. I understood this completely.
“You know, as a team works together they discover certain quirks or peculiarities, and sometimes the handler will develop special needs that we try to address by refining a behavior or even teaching a whole new set of behaviors. The relationship between a person with disabilities and his dog is an ever-changing, ever-evolving one, and at Coastal Assistance Dogs we provide ongoing support.” He seemed to stop himself. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I’m rambling. You’re not interested in all that. It’s all just—such a shock.”
“I’m very interested,” I told him. “I’m a dog trainer myself. Mostly search and rescue, and some local therapydog work. I’ve never tried anything as complicated as training a service dog, though.”
“Our dogs are in training for two years before we place them,” he explained, seeming to relax again now that he knew he was talking to a “dog” person. “Then we work with the handler and the dog one-on-one for up to six weeks before we send them home, depending on the needs of the person with whom we’re placing the dog. For the first year, we do home visits every three months, and after that we ask the team to return to the training center for evaluation once a year.”
“When was Mickey White last in?”
I could hear the tapping of a keyboard. “August,” he said after a moment. “And there’s absolutely no notation here that either the trainer or the social worker noticed anything out of the ordinary. She was very happy with Nero, and Nero was working out even better than we had hoped. Of course, she understood that as her condition continued to deteriorate, she would depend on her dog more and more, and it was very important that we continue to refine his training.”
“She had a deteriorating condition?” I said, wondering whether the deterioration had been progressing faster than she had expected, and whether that had led to the despair that caused her to pull the trigger. “Can you tell me what it
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