Gone to the Dogs by Susan Conant Page B

gall to send it.”
    I probably gasped. For the amount Brenner had wanted for one consultation, I could have trained either or both of my dogs once a week for five months at the Cambridge Dog Training Club.
    “And,” Jackie continued, “Lee thought we ought to pay it! He said it would be easier, that we’d avoid a big fuss if we just paid, but I plain outright refused. Willie could’ve been seriously injured! Were we going to pay for that? Not on your life, I said to Lee, and don’t you dare pay it yourself, either, I told him, and he didn’t.”
    Then we talked about the Monks of New Skete. I didn’t know exactly how much they’d charge, but I knew they couldn’t be cheap. Well, I thought, the Miners weren’t paying any rent, they didn’t have to worry about vet bills, and Jackie had at least picked good instructors this time. Also, having recently replaced my old scent-discrimination articles with an extravagant set from Paul’s Obedience Shop, I was in no position to accuse anyone else of wasting money on a dog. Mostly, I wished the Monks good luck and hoped that Willie wouldn’t bite one of them. As I drove home, I wondered whether a nipped Monk has to turn the other ankle.

8
    Want to become a professional dog trainer? Presto! There you go. Don’t bother getting certified by the Society of North American Dog Trainers. Don’t waste your time putting dozens of obedience titles on dogs. Never trained a dog at all? Never even owned one? Well, that’s all right. Just list yourself in the yellow pages, and put in a display ad, preferably one with a picture of a happy-looking dog. Also, be sure to offer everything: complete professional evaluation, obedience training, protection training, puppy training, behavioral consultation, and problem-solving services for any dog of any breed at any age in your home or our homier-than-home professional facilities. Individual lessons? Of course. Classes? Naturally. Residential programs? Make that a specialty. It’s very lucrative.
    Dick Brenner was listed in the NYNEX yellow pages and had a great big ad there, too. I recognized some of the other people listed under “Pet Training,” including a couple of people who’d written dog books and one honest-to-God smart and helpful behavioral consultant who really did specialize in monster dogs. You want to know who wasn’t listed? Vince Dragone wasn’t there, and neither were Roz, Bess Stein, TonyDoucette, or any of the other first-rate trainers I knew. But wasn’t the Cambridge Dog Training Club there? No. Neither was the New England Dog Training Club, Charles River, Concord, South Shore, or any other AKC-affiliated club. But competitive obedience is a sport, some people say, whereas the consultants are dog psychiatrists. Unless the dog is one of those rare fiends with a genuinely rotten temperament, I don’t buy that distinction. If you’d never been sent to school and if no one had even bothered to show you what good behavior is, which would you need, education or psychiatry?
    NYNEX didn’t show Brenner’s credentials, but it did give his phone number, and early Tuesday morning, I reached him. All the obedience titles I’ve put on dogs do not make me a professional dog trainer, but the B.A. in journalism I put on myself does make me a professional writer, and I don’t trust secondary sources.
    “My name is Holly Whitcomb. I found your name in the yellow pages,” I informed Brenner. Whitcomb is my cousin Leah’s last name. I borrowed it in case Brenner happened to subscribe to
Dog’s Life
or one of the other magazines that publish my articles now and then. “I’m having some problems with my dog? And I thought maybe you could help?” I tried to sound like the kind of person I’m not, someone who’d have problems with a dog and expect someone to save her if she did.
    Brenner spoke rapidly for a man with such a deep, full voice. “That’s what we’re here for,” he said confidently.
    I feigned a sigh of