This is the ROOM with the SLIPPERY FLOOR and I am doing SO GOOD at sitting.
My human is here! My human is on the little bench and my human is holding my leash so close and my human keeps touching my head, again, again, which means my human loves me the MOST, which I already knew.
There are OTHER dogs here. I smell them. I smell a cat, somewhere, being brave. I smell the sharp clean cold smell that lives only in this room and nowhere else, the smell that means WAIT, the smell that means a person in the soft blue clothes will say my name and my human will stand up.
My human is a little quiet. My human is doing the tight face. That is okay! I will lean on the leg. Leaning fixes everything. I lean my whole self into my human because my human should know that whatever the tight face is about, I am HERE, and I am the SOLUTION.
A door opens. Is it the door? Is it MY door? Everyone looks. Not yet. Okay.
My human keeps saying my name in the soft low voice, the good-dog voice, the voice from the car when we were coming here, over and over, my name, my name, like it is the most important word my human knows.
I do not know why we come here. I do not need to know. My human is holding my face now in both hands and looking right at me and my human's eyes are wet, which is a thing I will lick.
Everything is okay because my human is here.
And after? There is always the treat by the door. Always.
The BEST treat, for being SO GOOD.