As days passed, Nia’s bad dreams waned but didn’t disappear. And seeing Nia’s distress made Anna wonder if Bruno might also be suffering from battlefield nightmares, even though his letters, which had dwindled in frequency and content, reassured her that he was of sound mind and body.
While Anna was away at work, Norbie filled in as caregiver. Each day, he wrapped Nia in a wool blanket and carried her down the stairs to his workshop, where he fed her turnip feed, mixed with bits of black war bread. Most of the time, Nia slept at his feet while he tinkered on timepieces. Twice per day, he gently transferred her to the garden behind the workshop to do her business. With Nia unable to stand on her own, he held her under the abdomen to keep weight off her paws. After relieving herself, Nia raised her snout and licked Norbie on the nose. In the evenings, Anna returned home to find Norbie at his workbench and Nia curled at his feet. When Anna inquired as to why Norbie was missing his socks and shoes, he’d wiggled his toes and said, “She likes her tummy rubbed.”
Within a week, Nia gained a bit of weight. Her rib cage no longer looked like a washboard covered in fur, and her caramel- and charcoal-colored coat began to shine. She managed to briefly stand on her own, her legs splayed and quivering, before flopping on her belly. But after a few more days of care, she was hobbling to the door to nuzzle Anna when she came home from work. And, judging from a broken pendulum clock that remained in the same state of disrepair on a workbench, Anna knew that Norbie had forgone much of his work to care for Nia. Seeing Norbie’s selfless compassion reminded Anna of how he’d cared for her after Mutter died. Now, more than ever, she was grateful to have Norbie as hervater.
Anna straightened her bed and dressed for work. She helped Nia down the stairs to the kitchen, where Norbie was reading a newspaper and eating breakfast.
“Good morning,” Anna said.
Norbie put down his newspaper. “I made you toast and bark coffee. The brew is better than the last batch, but it still tastes like wood tea.”
“Danke.” Anna poured a cup of coffee, the color of blanched hazelnut, from a pot on the stove. She sat at the table and nibbled on her toasted black bread.
Nia hobbled to Norbie and nuzzled his leg.
He patted Nia and looked at Anna. “Are you sure she’s healthy enough to spend a day at the school?” he asked, a timbre of sadness in his voice.
You’re going to miss her, Anna thought. “Her paws need more time to heal, but my supervisor wants to see how she’s recovering.”
Norbie nodded.
Anna had provided Rolf Fleck with daily verbal progress reports on Nia’s health. However, after two weeks, his patience on Nia’s recovery had grown thin, and he insisted on examining the dog for himself. She hoped that, despite the pressure to produce a supply of dogs for training, he would allow more time for Nia’s recuperation.
“Our first veteran arrives today,” Anna said. “His name is Paul Feyen.”
“That’s wonderful news,” he said. “Will there be others joining him?”
“Not in the first class,” Anna said. “Fleck wants to keep it small to allow time for the trainers to learn and make adjustments.”
“When is the next class?” Norbie asked.
“Eight weeks,” Anna said. “Enough time for Nia to recover and be enrolled in class.”
Norbie rubbed Nia’s head. “I have two months to spoil you.”
Nia licked Norbie’s hand.
“We should treat her like a working guide dog, rather than a pet,” Anna said. “We mustn’t get too attached to her. It’s only a matter of time before she’s gone.”
Nia’s eyes glanced between Anna and Norbie.
Norbie patted Nia and placed his hands on his lap. “Okay.”
A bit of guilt fluttered in Anna’s stomach. Like Norbie, she’d spoiled Nia with cuddles and naps on her bed.
“Will you be working with the veteran?” Norbie asked.
“Nein,” she said, attempting to hide her disappointment. “My duties are limited to assisting trainers and caring for dogs.”
Norbie took a gulp of coffee. “They should be allowing you to do more.”
“I like my work,” she said.
“I’m sure you do,” he said. “But I think that you’d make a grand dog teacher. Right, Nia?”
Nia perked her head.
Anna sipped her coffee. Despite her proclamation that she was content with her role, she aspired to be a trainer. She loved everything about guide dogs, and the prospect that these beautiful, intelligent animals were destined to be a prosthesis for the eyes of blind veterans. She took every opportunity to attentively survey the work of trainers. The manner in which they judged a dog’s temperament. The assessments and tests they administered to the dogs. Obedience commands. The steps they took to induct an untrained dog to a class-standard canine. Advanced training and obstacle work. But by far the most impressive work, to Anna, was intelligent disobedience training, which was when a guide dog learned to disobey a command for the safety of a handler, such as being ordered to cross a busy street. Each evening, Anna recorded her observations in a journal that she kept at her bedside. Her heart and mind were awakened to the incredible feats that the guide dogs performed and, more than anything, she wanted to be part of restoring a disabled person’s life.Perhaps someday I’ll get a chance to train with them.
