After flying to Texas and looking at Valkyrie in her hazel eyes, I knew I made the right choice. The Doberman had a commanding presence, all sleek lines and intelligent eyes. She was beautiful, powerful… and utterly baffling. Valkyrie’s ‘failure’ as a working dog had quickly revealed itself: she was hopelessly distracted by shiny objects. Whether it was a glinting coin, someone’s annoyingly shiny water tumbler, or even a discarded gum wrapper, Valkyrie’s laser focus would crumble in an instant. More than once, our walks had been delayed by her single-minded pursuit of a glimmering prize.

I laugh under my breath as Valkyrie veers towards the trail, nose glued to the ground, tail wagging. Sure enough, the dog emerges triumphantly a second later, a crumpled soda can dangling from her teeth like a trophy.

Her eyes shine with pride as if she’s just uncovered buried treasure instead of someone’s trash.

“Seriously, Valkyrie?” I ask, my voice tinged with affection. Crouching down, I grab at the can. “You know, normal dogs fetch sticks. But no, you have to go for the recyclable trash. You’re like a magpie in a Doberman’s body.”

Valkyrie wags her tail in response, nubbing harder, hazel eyes shining with smug satisfaction. She knows exactly what she’s done. I can’t help but laugh as I shake my head, prying the can free and tucking it into the bag I started carrying for her trophies. Valkyrie’s quirks had taken some getting used to, but in a way, they made her all the more endearing. A little too endearing, considering I should probably be teaching her better manners instead of enabling her trash-hoarding tendencies. But here we are. The little weirdo is impossible to stay mad at.

“Come on.” Rising to my feet, I give the leash a gentle tug. “Let’s see if we can make it through the trail without filling up the bag again. Last time, I had to get creative transporting your treasures.”

We make it almost back to the entrance— having only picked up a few more trophies —when disaster strikes. Valkyrie spots a shiny object in the distance. She lunges forward, yanking the leash from my hand.

“Valkyrie, HEEL!”

She ignores me, sprinting toward a hiker’s water tumbler.

Oh, for the love of—

She collides with the hiker who had just bent down to pick it up. He lets out a startled shout as he topples backward, landing in the dirt. Valkyrie stands over him, the tumbler clutched in her jaws like a prize.

Great. I’m about to get sued, aren’t I?

“Oh my god!” I exclaim as I rush toward them. “I am so sorry!”