No Handle, No Problem

My favorite slicker brush is now missing a handle.

I came home from church and lunch, ready to get Bruce prepped for therapy dog visits this week. Cleanliness matters, so between professional groomings, I take care of it myself.

I was blow drying away when I reached for my favorite slicker brush… and it wasn’t there. I patted around, expecting to find it—nothing.

It was one of those eerily quiet moments, like when a toddler disappears.

I looked up over Bruce’s back (he was standing on the grooming table), and there was Moses… out in the yard, laying down, with pieces of my red slicker brush scattered all around.

Durnit. It must’ve fallen off the table and I didn’t notice.

I raised my voice—but stayed calm.
“Moses… get it.”

Without hesitation, he picked it up and trotted straight to me. He dropped it once or twice along the way, but proudly delivered what was left.
“Good boy,” I said—mustering every ounce of self-control to stay positive.

He didn’t know. It just happened.

I was still able to finish grooming Bruce, and for that, I was grateful. Even more, I was grateful for the unexpected training moment and the chance to connect with both of my dogs.

Bruce is therapy-visit-ready.
Moses got a little obedience work in.
All good.

Training is a journey—and I’m thankful for all of it.

Sandy