Read Online Rottweiler Rescue by Ellen O'Connell - Free Book Online Page A

Sophie’s name again and again as loudly as I could. She didn’t do the trained obedience dog’s instant, skidding halt. She slowed reluctantly, and finally stopped without turning, the urge to go on clear in every line of her body.
    Looking tiny in the distance, her silhouette appeared then disappeared in the flashes of the headlights, yet the intensity of the way she stared after the van radiated through the night. When I called again, sobbing with relief that she had listened at all, she turned and started back to me at a trot.
    A babble of voices sounded around me.
    “Lady, are you all right?”
    “My God, that dog attacked her.”
    “She’s bleeding. Somebody get the cops.”
    “I called 911 on my cell. They said I was the third one that called.”
    “We’ve got to do something about the dogs. Has anybody got any rope or anything?”
    That last made me take my eyes off Sophie long enough to straighten out the people around me.
    “The dog didn’t bite me. There was a man with a knife. He escaped in that van. Don’t even think about hurting my dogs!”
    My voice, which had been so hoarse when I had been calling to Sophie, now started out squeaky and rose to half-hysterical. As Sophie trotted up, the circle around me parted, making a wide path for her. I grabbed her collar and sat there, holding both dogs, unsure what to do next.
    One brave soul finally broke out of the circle of concerned shoppers surrounding me. “Okay, lady, okay. Are you all right?”
    “No. Yes! My car is over there. I want to put my dogs in it. I want to go home.”
    “Can you stand up?”
    “I-I’m not sure.”
    “Those dogs going to be all right if I touch you?”
    “Yes! They’re good dogs. They were in the car. Something happened. There was a gunshot. They chased him.” In truth I wasn’t so sure of Sophie’s mood right then, but I wasn’t admitting it to any of these people. With the Good Samaritan’s help, and using the dogs’ sturdy bodies, I managed to get to my feet.
    My sensible savior was a thick-bodied, middle-aged man with a kind face. He gave me his belt to use as a leash and talked another shopper into doing the same. Sophie stayed pressed so close to me I could feel the heat of her through my clothes. It was the only thing I could feel that was pleasant. I hurt all over. My throat was crushed and bruised, and my knees were on fire where raw flesh was exposed to night air through the gaping holes torn in my jeans. The palms of my hands were only slightly better off than my knees. The cut on my neck was starting to throb.
    Seeing that it was safe to approach, more people crowded around me. Helping hands pressed a wad of tissues into mine. When I began to wipe my neck, the amount of blood shocked me. Gingerly I explored and realized in addition to the original cut on my neck there was a long shallow slash that extended around under my ear then into my hair. Since I was standing and breathing and feeling stronger than a few minutes ago, I decided the wound couldn’t be serious.
    Dennis Conrady introduced himself and his wife, Karen, who was equally concerned about me but unwilling to get close to the dogs. He let me keep hold of the belts and the dogs, but steadied me by the arm and helped me toward my car.
    We all stopped as we got close enough to really see it. A back window lay in two pieces on the ground. Slowly it dawned on me that the loud crack I’d taken for a gunshot was the sound of the window exploding outward from the car. There had been stories of Rottweilers taking out car windows on my email lists, but could a dog Sophie’s size slamming every one of her eighty-five pounds into the window do that? If Robo had caught her excitement and somehow hit the window simultaneously? An explanation for their saving presence hadn’t really occurred to me, and now faced with one, I could barely credit it.
    The dogs jumped willingly enough into the back, and this time I used their own leashes to fasten each