Learning tricks (Patreon)

“Paw,” Gareth requests.

Max tilts her head to the side. In the process, one fluffy, floppy ear turns inside out over her head. You chuckle and flick it back in its position.

“She’s so adorable, but she still has enough to learn, doesn’t she?”

Gareth smiles and scratches in her favorite spot under the jaw. “She’s learned a couple things already. She knows how to sit and lie down. And the others, we’re working on. A little bit every day, aren’t we?” he says, voice notching higher and sweeter as he no longer addresses you. Max stares back at him with beady, dark eyes.

It only took meeting Max, when she was but a tiny pup playing with her litter mates, for Gareth to fall utterly in love with her. Lot had brought him to the kennel to choose one of the puppies to have as his own, and she’d charmed him with her friendly nature and wet brown eyes. While he had to wait until she was a few months older and no longer suckling on her mother, Gareth visited her often. You happily accompanied him – you wouldn’t miss on a chance to pet and play with those cute little critters.

“Alright,” he says. “Let’s try again. Paw, please.” He holds out his own hand, palm up, with the elegance he’d ask someone to dance.

Max stares at it then yanks up one leg, slamming her paw against his hand.

“Thank you.” He slips a little treat from his pocket and offers it to her. “What a distinguished gentledog.”

“Quick learner, isn’t she? You’ll have her prancing about and doing tricks in no time.” You reach out to run your fingers through her fur; it’s fluffy and thick and soft, coming in shades of beige, gray and black. “Reckon she enjoys it, too, doesn’t she?”

“We’re definitely trying to make it fun for her. Like we’re playing, but it’s play we must take seriously.” It conjures distant, fuzzy memories of your mother dressing up magical lessons as little games.

Gareth goes on: “The kennel master says dogs need both mental and physical stimulation.” The corner of his mouth twitches up. “Something to learn, like I have my books.”

“What’s the physical stimulation to reading?”

“Fetching the book from the shelf,” he replies, to which you snort.

Max, seeing as no one’s asking anything of her right now, flops down on her side and paws at the air, demanding that all attention be rightfully channeled towards her. You both gladly oblige, two set of hands scratching and patting her.

“I...would like to take Max trekking through the woods, though, from time to time,” Gareth says.

“Would you?” Hope and surprise color your voice. Gareth is not in the habit of traipsing through the forest, not without you emboldening him to do so when he’s spent too much time reading or solving assignments. It’s not that he’s adverse to a good walk; in fact, he’s very eager if you propose one to town, especially if your journey includes visiting various shops. Books, garments, trinkets, it’s always fun to scour over them with you. ‘The wilderness’ can be a tad daunting, he says, but he does appreciate the respite it offers from court life. You get the sense he’s mostly just indulging you and mother.

He notices your expression and smiles knowingly. “You and mother always insist I do more exercise, and that’s what Max needs too, so might as well try braving the woods.”

“Well,” you say, a smile curling your lips, “I’ll be very glad to have both your company. And I promise I’ll start you off with the easier paths.”

He lets out a small, relieved sigh. “You better.”

You spend some more time fluffing up Max and talking about exercise before Gareth decides to try the tricks again, this time letting you issue the command.

‘Max, paw.”

She places one paw in your palm – it’s comically oversized in proportion with her body – and you close your fingers around it, shaking politely. “How do you do, Lady Max?”

Lady Max gobbles the treat you offer as reward, staring at you with an open mouth that looks very much like a wide smile.

You can’t help it. Hands sunk into the woolly scuff of her neck, you lean forward and place a quick peck on the top of her head. As you do, a potent whiff forces its way up your nose, making your whole face scrunch up as you pull away.

Gareth regards you with sparkling eyes. “Yes?”

“Nothing,” you say as the dog settles down on your lap, cushioning her head on her paws with a big sigh. “Max simply has a...distinct aroma.” It’s not unpleasant, though you’re not used to it either; it reminds you of the grass and soil.

“I know. Mother says my quarters reek of dog now.” It’s no wonder; Max, having graduated out of the dogs kennel, now resides in his rooms, and often ends up sleeping in his bed despite her own comfy one placed by his. “But I’ve grown accustomed to it. It can be strange in the beginning, but it becomes comforting. Like the smell of ink on parchment, or of the leather that binds pages, or even that musty, sweet scent of old books.”

“In short, you’re utterly enamored with her.”

He laughs and doesn’t deny anything. Instead, he smiles down at Max and softly rubs at the base of her ears. “Would you like a pet someday, Mordred? Perhaps a cat? You’re awfully fond of them.”

A wistful smiles catches on your lips. When you were little and living back in Avalon, you had a couple cats often visiting your home; basking in the sun on the tiles, hunting bugs in the garden, purring and nuzzling against you while you sat on the recliner. Morgana was as fond of them as you were, and parting with them when you left – and finding yourself with no other furry companion – was indeed quite a change. Nowadays, you seek feline affection from the cats roaming the castle grounds and the ones at the Temple.

“Perhaps,” you say. “I’d like that. Maybe once I’m older, and in Camelot, I could get one. Or two.”

Max jerks onto her back, whatever drowsiness descended upon her before evaporating. She tries to nibble at your fingers but you quickly reach for her twine toy to chew on, as Gareth taught you.

“Looks like it’s playtime,” he says. “Maybe we could teach her fetch?”