Weeks dragged into months. Three months to be exact. No days off, not even a turnout. I was working seven days a week, twelve to eighteen hours a day. I was becoming a burned out mess. About this time Jeff hired a new helper named Bobby. He told him to come to me with any questions. Bobby and I became good friends. He would come get me when I was done with the first part of my morning work. Instead of breakfast at Shoney's we would smoke a joint for breakfast and go have fun sprinting the dogs or playing with them in the turnout pen.
We knew we wouldn't get caught because our bosses were too lazy to get up in the morning. It was nice not to be the newbie for once and Bobby was fascinated that I could get through the morning routine so easily. We had the same background too. Our parents had money. Enough money for us to be pariahs around the good ole country boys who generally worked around the kennels. He lasted longer than I did with his preppy grooming. I quit after three days, he kept it up for a couple of months. I made a lot of fun of him for it. He didn't mind.
One day Sal came in the kennel. He was his usual exuberant self. "I hired a trainer! The best in the business," he happily told me. "He's a super trainer. He will be here in two weeks and he is going to teach you everything he knows. You should thank me for hiring such a high quality teacher for you."
I was taken aback. I had spent the last couple months thinking he would replace me as soon as he found somebody willing to work for him. The only thing that kept me safe was the fact that nobody was willing to take his shit. I loved my dogs too much to go anywhere else and he took full advantage of it. The news gave me energy. Bobby (my husband - not the helper) and I celebrated all night long that night.
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