While Lise talked on the phone with her friend Grace, I sniffed around. There were traces of him everywhere. But the strongest scent was in the direction of the front door.
Which wasn’t completely closed.
Maybe Lise hadn’t properly latched it? I glanced at her, but she was too absorbed with pouring out her heart to a sympathetic ear. I scratched at the door. Her back was now to me, one hand pressing the phone firmly to her head, the other covering her other ear so she could hear over the still blaring TV. The Lawrence Welk show was on now. A man in a red jacket was playing the accordion and Bobby and Sissy were dancing to The Beer Barrel Polka. Why didn’t she just get the remote control and turn it down? I stared at her awhile, hoping she’d figure it out. Or look my way. Or realize Hunter wasn’t in the room. Something.
But she just went on and on. My agitation was increasing by the second. I retrieved the remote from beside where Hunter had been and sat in front of her. By then, she had a hand over her eyes. I woofed once, softly. As I did so, the remote fell from my mouth. Onto her foot.
“Ow!” Lise straightened. When she saw what I’d brought her, she glared at me. She picked the remote up, wiped my saliva from it, and slapped it on the end table. “Halo, no! Bad dog!”
Rats, I should have brought the blanket over. Then she would’ve noticed Hunter wasn’t asleep there.
In one smooth movement, she scooped me up and marched across the room. I was almost too big for her to carry anymore. My back legs swung against her hip. I felt myself slipping as she hugged me to her side. I squirmed when I saw where she was headed — the back door — but she just held me tighter.
“My friend Katherine suggested I take him to a counselor, but I don’t know that it’d be worth it, Grace. I mean, if he won’t talk, what’s the point? I’d be paying someone a hundred and fifty bucks an hour to babysit him while he stares off into space... Sure, I understand. I really do... Well, I think he just needs time. And I certainly can’t let him go over there again. Talk about trauma. Besides, who knows what could happen if she takes her eyes off of him, even for a minute? With his asthma, I can’t leave him with someone who’s going to just let him wander off like that.”
We had passed through the hallway and were headed into the kitchen. I couldn’t let her do this. Hunter was in trouble. I sensed it. Every second mattered.
So I bit her. Not enough to draw blood, mind you. Just a pinch of my front teeth on the tender flesh between her thumb and forefinger.
She gasped. Then through tight lips, she growled, “You little turd!”
The hand that was holding me latched onto my collar. She swung me down, slamming me onto my side on the linoleum. The air whooshed out of my lungs. I drew in one quick breath and held it, bracing myself.
“Hold on a sec, Grace. Someone’s being a brat... No, not him. The puppy. Be right back.”
Lise set her phone on the floor and clamped down on my muzzle with a death grip. She brought her face close to mine and stared me down.
I didn’t like what I saw in her eyes. Deep down in my soul, it scared me. It was a glimpse of what we’re all capable of when life has exploded around us and we’re desperate to survive. So I looked away. She was angry. Very angry. Not just at me. At the world.
Instead of alerting her to a possible crisis, I’d pricked her last nerve.
Every muscle in my body stiffened. I kept my eyes averted, my ears pinned against my head. Lifting my front and back leg of the side nearest Lise, I exposed my belly. Had I been upright, I would have urinated. At times, it is necessary to display total, utter submission. I had terrorized my littermates until they exhibited these very same signals. Because it was important that they understood who was boss. I had learned this from my mother. There was no mistaking the message that I was trying to send to Lise right then:
Which wasn’t completely closed.
Maybe Lise hadn’t properly latched it? I glanced at her, but she was too absorbed with pouring out her heart to a sympathetic ear. I scratched at the door. Her back was now to me, one hand pressing the phone firmly to her head, the other covering her other ear so she could hear over the still blaring TV. The Lawrence Welk show was on now. A man in a red jacket was playing the accordion and Bobby and Sissy were dancing to The Beer Barrel Polka. Why didn’t she just get the remote control and turn it down? I stared at her awhile, hoping she’d figure it out. Or look my way. Or realize Hunter wasn’t in the room. Something.
But she just went on and on. My agitation was increasing by the second. I retrieved the remote from beside where Hunter had been and sat in front of her. By then, she had a hand over her eyes. I woofed once, softly. As I did so, the remote fell from my mouth. Onto her foot.
“Ow!” Lise straightened. When she saw what I’d brought her, she glared at me. She picked the remote up, wiped my saliva from it, and slapped it on the end table. “Halo, no! Bad dog!”
Rats, I should have brought the blanket over. Then she would’ve noticed Hunter wasn’t asleep there.
In one smooth movement, she scooped me up and marched across the room. I was almost too big for her to carry anymore. My back legs swung against her hip. I felt myself slipping as she hugged me to her side. I squirmed when I saw where she was headed — the back door — but she just held me tighter.
“My friend Katherine suggested I take him to a counselor, but I don’t know that it’d be worth it, Grace. I mean, if he won’t talk, what’s the point? I’d be paying someone a hundred and fifty bucks an hour to babysit him while he stares off into space... Sure, I understand. I really do... Well, I think he just needs time. And I certainly can’t let him go over there again. Talk about trauma. Besides, who knows what could happen if she takes her eyes off of him, even for a minute? With his asthma, I can’t leave him with someone who’s going to just let him wander off like that.”
We had passed through the hallway and were headed into the kitchen. I couldn’t let her do this. Hunter was in trouble. I sensed it. Every second mattered.
So I bit her. Not enough to draw blood, mind you. Just a pinch of my front teeth on the tender flesh between her thumb and forefinger.
She gasped. Then through tight lips, she growled, “You little turd!”
The hand that was holding me latched onto my collar. She swung me down, slamming me onto my side on the linoleum. The air whooshed out of my lungs. I drew in one quick breath and held it, bracing myself.
“Hold on a sec, Grace. Someone’s being a brat... No, not him. The puppy. Be right back.”
Lise set her phone on the floor and clamped down on my muzzle with a death grip. She brought her face close to mine and stared me down.
I didn’t like what I saw in her eyes. Deep down in my soul, it scared me. It was a glimpse of what we’re all capable of when life has exploded around us and we’re desperate to survive. So I looked away. She was angry. Very angry. Not just at me. At the world.
Instead of alerting her to a possible crisis, I’d pricked her last nerve.
Every muscle in my body stiffened. I kept my eyes averted, my ears pinned against my head. Lifting my front and back leg of the side nearest Lise, I exposed my belly. Had I been upright, I would have urinated. At times, it is necessary to display total, utter submission. I had terrorized my littermates until they exhibited these very same signals. Because it was important that they understood who was boss. I had learned this from my mother. There was no mistaking the message that I was trying to send to Lise right then:
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