Читать книгу Parisian Tails - Stephen Hayes - Страница 6

It was a Friday, the 2nd of March in 2007, exactly nine years to the day before Paris's final work walk. It was a beautiful sunny day and I had gotten home from university in the early afternoon in preparation. After some email correspondence with Hadrian, we agreed that I would take a little test-walk with the dog, whose name I hadn't yet been told, before making a decision on whether or not she felt right for me (such as her height, her pace, and even her personality, to a lesser extent).

Hadrian rocked up in a station wagon around three or four in the afternoon, I forget exactly when, and took me out to the car where Paris was sitting in the back. My first thought upon hearing that her name was Paris was one of hilarity, because although I was told that she was named after the city, I couldn't help comparing her, in my mind, to Paris Hilton—and the fact that she was a blonde dog didn't help that. We even joked within the family from then on that Paris's middle name ought to be Hilton.

I was strangely shy when I first met Paris. Even though she was a dog, somehow it felt like I needed to make a good first impression on her. I think I succeeded, because when she was finally standing on my driveway, panting away, I reached out to pat her—and she promptly jumped up and head-butted me in the face. Hadrian told me to tell her to sit, and she immediately obeyed me, still panting and trying to lick my hand as I patted her. She was very excitable on that first day, and she had found a very typically Paris way to break the ice.

I was shown how to put the harness on her, a process I wouldn't master until the training officially began, and then we went for our first walk together. It was immediately clear that her height was perfect for me, so that wasn't going to be an issue. She did walk a little quickly, perhaps because of her excitement, but by slowly raising and lowering the handle of the harness (a technique drilled into me during training), I was able to encourage her to temper her pace.

I wouldn't go as far as saying I fell in love with Paris on that first day, but I knew very quickly that she was the dog for me. I don't think I was necessarily anxious not to go back on the waiting list again, although I certainly didn't want to; but even if that hadn't been a factor, I still would have chosen to proceed with Paris. Not only had she demonstrated that she would be obedient (not always, but I would learn that later), but it was clear that she liked me quite as much, if not more, than I liked her.

When we returned from that first walk, Hadrian loaded Paris back into the car. (She never set foot inside my house on that first day, nor did she meet anyone else in my family.) We then talked and it was agreed that I would start my training in five weeks.