| |
––––––––
SHADOW’S EARS TWITCHED. A car? He liked car rides. Cars were warm.
He burst from the nest, white as a Polar bear until he shook off the ice. Steven snugged into a tighter ball when Shadow’s warmth pulled away, but he made no sound.
Fluffy snow had changed to tiny ice balls that sizzled like bacon when they hit nearby roofs. Shadow blinked. Round yellow eyes glowed. The shiny eye-lights lit up the snow in twin pathways flung far ahead of the growly car. The eye-lights were placed higher than the ones on Steven’s car. This car was a giant.
Shadow liked his boy’s car. It smelled like French fries. Maybe all cars, even tall ones with big yellow eyes, smelled that way. Or even had French fries for good-dogs and their boys.
At the thought, Shadow’s tail moved faster. Steven needed a warm car place. So did Shadow’s toes. He licked his paws and they tingled in response. He’d like a French fry, too.
Steven didn’t respond to Shadow’s nose poke, so he woofed under his breath, prepared to dodge a flung fist. But his boy clung tighter to himself, hugged legs with his hands while his knees pillowed his cheek.
The engine grew louder. Yellow eyes stabbed close.
Shadow barked. Nothing happened, Steven didn’t even twitch.
The giant car grumbled, and made lots more noise than the small one Steven’s mother drove. Shadow watched for a moment. It didn’t pause, just rolled along the car path and pushed snow ahead of its nose-less face. Would it stop? Maybe not. How would his boy climb inside if it didn’t stop?
Could a dog make it stop, or just people?
He pawed Steven. His boy needed to move. Steven could stand by the car path. That’s how cars knew to stop and let them inside. That worked for his boy’s car, anyway. Maybe it would work for the giant car, too.
He grasped Steven’s sleeve and tugged. Up, get up, stop the big car and go for a ride. Cars carried dogs and their boys home. And home was warm, with bowls full of dinnertime. Home was Teddy, his bear toy. Home was treat-lady visits. Home was safe. Shadow wanted to go home.
Steven must get up, up, up!
“No-no-no-no, leave Steven alone.” His boy barely lifted his head, the words so soft only good-dogs with big ears could hear.
Shadow turned away and bounded toward the growly car. He stopped near the pole that jutted out of the drift. It carried a faint smell of dog pee where others before him had marked. So the pole must be important, maybe the big car paid attention to dog signposts, too. Shadow barked as loud as he could, and danced back and forth from the curb to the sign. He kicked up flurries, and bowed low and stuck his butt high to wave his tail in the air. That way the big car could see his black shape and know he meant no harm. Would it understand and stop to play with him?
But it didn’t even slow down. Shadow stared at his boy’s huddled form and wondered if the big yellow eyes could see Steven. He figured not. They didn’t move from the car path. It would soon pass them by and Shadow would be alone with his boy again. They’d have to wait for another car to come. Wait in the cold.
Shadow dove into the path of the car. He wasn’t supposed to. Treat-lady taught him only bad dogs moved into the car path. But he didn’t care. He didn’t know what else to do.
Shadow stood his ground. Barks mixed with excited yelps. The giant yellow eyes bore down on him until he could see nothing else.
