Get It

Isaac and I were at the dog park and were getting ready to leave. His friend Clyde was leaving at the same time. 

 

Now, Isaac acts like such a labradork at the dog park, I usually do not tell people he is a service dog. I told his friend Iris's dad and he looked at me like he did not believe me. Probably because I'd just gotten done yelling at my dog to come back as he swam around the divider into the other section of the dog beach. Or maybe he because he still thinks Isaac does not know "drop" since he won't drop a ball so you can throw it for him.

Anyway. I pulled my car keys out of my pocket and my glove fell out.

 

Clyde's dad said, "I think you dropped a glove." 

 

I looked down at it on the ground, pointed at it, and told Isaac, "Get it."

Clyde's dad kind of chuckled, like he thought I was joking. 

 

"No," I told him, "He'll get it." 

 

Meanwhile, Isaac was trying to sniff Clyde's butt. I got his attention, pointed again, and said, "Get it for me." And he did!

Clyde's dad was suitably impressed.