I clear my voice, feeling my cheeks burn. “We have an appointment, remember?” Did he conveniently forget, so I could be treated to this when I arrived? He’s turned around and the front view is even more impressive than the back, taut from the muscle strain and damp from exertion, the peaks and ridges like that of a chiseled statue.
“Well, yeah, at nine.” He checks his watch. “Couldn’t wait to see me?”
“No. Cory booked us for eight.” Early enough that I could get back for my morning appointments without rushing.
“I do my workouts at eight on my days off. I told her that.” Tyler reaches for a towel that dangles from a bench press and wipes it across his forehead.
“Then there’s obviously been a misunderstanding because my calendar says eight,” I declare as I pull my phone out to prove myself right. “And she’s always good with …” My voice trails.
Eight a.m.: Tyler’s workout. Hopefully shirtless.
Nine a.m.: Kennel check at Tyler’s.
Cory must have revised my calendar moments ago. She’s added a smiley face and a “please don’t fire me” to the eight a.m. time slot.
She has never messed with my schedule like this before. I don’t know whether to be irritated or to laugh at her brazen attempt at forcing a connection that I already explained would never happen.
“What does it say?” Tyler is suddenly beside me, hovering over my shoulder.
I startle and slam my phone against my chest to hide the screen. “Doesn’t matter. I’m here, so let’s do this.” I tuck it into my back pocket as I take a few steps away from him.
Tyler laughs, smoothing the towel over his chest. “Come on, I don’t smell that bad.”
He smells like clean sweat, not bad in the slightest, but I’m not about to admit that.
He looks past me. “Do I, Reed?”
I’d forgotten the kid was here, witnessing this entire mortifying debacle. “I have a busy day ahead of me, so are you ready?” I didn’t intend the snippy tone, but it serves me well in this case.
Tyler reaches for a navy blue T-shirt hanging off the bench press. “I can be ready.” He tugs it over his head, covering his impressive body. “Come on, let me show you around.” He passes me with a secretive smile.
*
“This is all …” I search for a word that doesn’t make me look like a preening fool. I can’t find one. “I’ve never seen such attention to dogs before.” Not even the Hatchetts have a system like this in place, and Tyler designed and built it all, with Reed’s help.
The seven-foot-tall fencing that Howie and I saw when we were here last encloses an area of more than an acre around the barn, creating a barrier against wildlife—particularly wolves and moose. Within that enclosure are the individual kennels and a robust agility course for the puppies. Along the outside of the barn are large pens with double kennels, suitable for housing two dogs per, so they can roam and play freely. Each has a name plate for the dog, giving it a personal touch. There are also dogs in individual kennels with lengthy running circle chains. As Tyler walked me through, he explained the two-system approach, and how they choose which living style fits best for each individual dog, based on personality and racing skill.
The wooden kennels themselves are well built, sitting on stable blocks with snug entrances to protect from inclement weather, shields to block the wind, wide roofs that the dogs can sunbathe on, and big overhangs to provide adequate shade.
The wall of clipboards I noticed coming into the barn houses thorough information on everything—medical charts that include not only the basics—age, weight, and vaccination dates—but also weekly checks with detailed notes on everything from massage needs and nail trimming to medications and pressure sores, running and training logs with specific mileage for each dog, bedding changes, molting hair collection, feeding maps, female cycle schedules, injuries, and past fights. There’s also a comprehensive map coding every dog by character, and which dogs prefer their space versus the ones who want to be placed together.
“You track everything.” He’s a veterinarian’s dream.
“We transfer all this information to our computer once a week. I can open up a spreadsheet and show you each dog’s complete history from the time they were born, right down to how many miles they’ve run, every pound they’ve gained and lost, which muscle they’ve pulled, and how long it’s taken for a boil to heal.” There’s pride in Tyler’s voice. “It’s a lot of work, but it’s worth it. It’s how Tero and Anja Rask run their kennel, and how Reed’s father taught him. He takes care of this for me in the summer.”