“Remember me, buddy?” He’d been dozing but lifted his big, liver-roan head off his giant paws and opened his eyes. Olivia flattened her hand against his kennel. “Because I sure missed you.”

The pointer rose to all fours, tail pumping and ears forward, and licked the bit of her hand that he could reach through the mesh fence.

“He does,” Patrick said, watching. “He’s more hesitant with the staff and other volunteers who approach him.”

“I kept him overnight,” Olivia said, talking in an effort to press back an unexpected rush of emotion. “I wouldn’t have guessed that he’d paid me much notice, as nervous as he was, but maybe I was wrong.”

“He’s timid, but he hasn’t been labeled a behavior risk. If you want to hook him up, you can. These kennels aren’t big enough to step into with him in it, so you’ll have to hook him up at the door.”

Pretending to have a bit more confidence than she felt that the dog wouldn’t slip past her, Olivia opened the door, using her body as a block, and offered him a treat from her open hand. After he’d swiped it up with a flick of his warm tongue, she slipped his collar around until she found the ring, then hooked him up.

“Correct.” Patrick’s tone was as matter-of-fact as they came.

I wonder what he’ll say if I do it wrong? Releasing a breath of relief, she stepped back and opened the door. The pointer wasted no time rushing out. Instead of bolting for the door, he pressed into her side and let out a whine that melted her heart.

“Do you approve of the name we’ve given him while he’s here? It means ‘sea chief.’ One of the volunteers suggested it after seeing the video of his struggle in the water.”

Olivia looked back at the kennel. Morgan was written on top of his bio.

“Morgan, huh?” She stroked the silky-smooth fur atop his head. He glanced upward, meeting her gaze for a split second. His tail thumped steadily. “Morgan, the sea chief. I like it.”

“Even when the names are new to them, we use them repeatedly in training sessions. It doesn’t take the dogs long to connect with them.”

Olivia nodded. “That’s fine by me.”

“Can you attempt to get him to sit using the signal I showed you before exiting the room?”

“With a closed fist, right?”

“Yes, but say the command as you make the fist. If he’s not listening, you may need to show him a treat first.”

Moving the leash to her left hand, Olivia made a fist with her right one and gave a “sit” command that came out with more confidence than she felt.

Morgan glanced at her again for a split second but then looked toward the closed door expectantly. “Morgan, sit. Sit.”