12/31

I search on my desk for a pair of scissors my sister is requesting, and she wont go away until I give them to her. As I search, I come across my Dumb Friends League pin, and I forget about the scissors and get transported to memory lane. One of the days, I helped walk dogs and play with them. "Ok group three; Sam, Ben, Lily, Jackson, and Brian." I sigh and head over to the corner where our group has gathered. "Its actually Briahn." I say. She apologizes, but it really is not that big of a deal. I get called Brian almost everyday and everyone thinks they are so funny and original with that name. Nope.

We start to walk to the kennels and the strong smell of dog and cleaning supplies hits me hard and I have to blink my eyes to get adjusted. Our supervisor quickly stops at the desk. "Today it looks like we will be working with 307, 328, 412, and 251." Normally I end up with Sam and Jackson, because thats how it always plays out. Sam, Jackson and I stand over by the door and wait until we know where dog in kennel 328, and 307 are. "First, we are going to walk Presley." He was around six years old and had short brown and white fur for a Basset Hound. The purple leash is clipped in, and the walk went by quickly, and soon we reach the pen where we play with the dog. Sam played a lot of fetch and Jackson did tug-a-war, while I waited for my turn and tried to see how well he would listen to commands. I pulled out the treats "Presley, sit!" he sat. I gave him a treat, and moved on to the next one. "Presley, stay." I walk away swiftly not looking back for a reaction until I reach the other side. He does as he as told, and the supervisor marks something on her sheet. It's time for the dog in kennel 307, so we quickly walk back.

"This is Spike." He was probably around four, and he was a Boxer mix with brown fur. The people at the Dumb Friends League didn't know what other breed he was mixed with, only that he was part Boxer. Spike's green leash is clipped and we head out. It starts to snow, but Spike is as happy as every walking around. When we get to the pen, Sam, Jackson and I do the same things. First Sam plays fetch, Jackson does tug-a-war, and I work on the training. Spike was really obedient just like Presley, and the supervisor marks something down and flashes a quick smile. I lost track of time, and it was time to go already. I said goodbye to Spike and headed towards, "Briahn, where are the scissors?"