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SHADOW SAT PATIENTLY beside his boy’s chair and drooled. He watched Steven pick up a French fry, dip it in dark sauce and munch. The treat-lady gave Shadow French fries when he was a good-dog and stayed quiet during rides. “French fries” was one of his favorite words. Shadow whined. He knew the next one was for him.
The bacon-smelling Freda and old man chatted. Shadow listened for familiar words, but he remained focused on his boy when he dipped another fry. He stood, wagged and stretched to gently take the greasy tidbit. Shadow chewed once, swallowed, and sat again. He licked his lips.
The smooth, shiny floor soothed Shadow’s sore footpads. Clanky cook-noises from the nearby fast food counter echoed in the empty space. The sounds made Shadow nervous, and the smells painted the air with temptation, but Shadow stayed next to his boy, the way a good-dog should. Once the French fries appeared, it became a happy place, and Shadow became a fan of both strangers.
The old man sipped his drink, a burned-smell concoction Shadow recognized. Steven’s mother drank the same hot liquid every morning. Teddy coughed and wiped his mouth with a tissue before sipping again. The old man sounded growly when he talked, but without the threat. It was just the way he sounded, like a big dog that meant no harm.
Freda sipped her own drink. It smelled sweet and when some sloshed on the floor, Shadow tasted it. He pawed her, hoping she’d spill some more.
“Steven, don’t you want a sandwich? A kid needs more than fries for dinner.” Shadow pawed her again, and she smiled and rubbed his ears and he leaned hard against her hand.
Steven shook his head. “Steven likes French fries. Steven likes ketchup. Steven feeds good-dog French fries and sauce.” He dipped another fry, sucked off the sauce, and chewed the morsel. Shadow pulled away from Freda and cocked his head in anticipation.
The old man gestured at the basket of fries, now nearly empty. “Want some more ketchup?”
His boy ignored the question. He dipped fries. Offered one to Shadow. Shadow considered the gesture as nice as a tummy rub.
Teddy looked around. “Everyone’s gone already, except us chickens.”
“My relief driver never showed. The office said they’re done for the night. Maybe for the rest of the week. That’s a cut in hours right before the holidays I don’t need.”
Shadow’s ears flattened at her tone. Big humans who worried meant problems for dogs. What would happen when the French fries were gone? What would he do...what would his boy do, if the two adults left? Shadow looked around. The clank from the kitchen had stopped. The open room with shiny-slick floors and food smells was big, empty, and nothing like home.
Adventure and new things were fun. Good-dogs liked to sniff new places. But Shadow wanted to go home. He yawned again and yearned for his soft bed in the kitchen, a kitchen that didn’t clank. His bed smelled like him, a good-dog smell. Not like wet floor and old grease. Shadow watched Freda’s wide, kind face and turned to the stubble-cheeked Teddy. He whined.
“Do you want a refill?” Teddy hooked his thumb to indicate the man at the food counter. “The manager knows me, and gives me freebies on refills.”
Freda smiled. “I’m done. Besides, once Steven’s on his way, we hit the road. Happy to give you a ride home, it’s on the way.”
Shadow checked his boy before he rose and padded after the old man to the counter. It smelled of chicken, fries and a touch . . . yes, it was bacon grease. Maybe if he asked his new friend in just the right way, he’d get some.
He sat down. He cocked his head and gently pawed Teddy’s pant leg. Greasy, salty French fries tasted good, but nothing compared to bacon. He whined and pawed again.
“I don’t think you like coffee, fella.” Teddy showed his stained teeth in a grin. “Thanks, Carl.”
“You’re welcome, Mr. Williams. Everyone in the mall has already left. I’m out of here, too.”
Teddy laughed. “Drive home safe.” Carl rolled down a noisy cover, and exited out a back hallway.
Shadow sighed. That metal curtain cut off any hope of bacon. He heard a distant door open and close when the French fry cook left the building.
Teddy limped back to Freda and Steven, and set his cup on the table. “Have to take a potty break, be back in a flash.”
At the table, Shadow sniffed carefully. Most of his boy’s French fries were gone. Maybe the smoky-smelling Teddy knew about another food place? At the happy thought, Shadow shook himself hard. Freda would stay with Steven, so surely a good-dog could explore? Just a little? Shadow turned and trotted after his new friend. His claws ticked on the slick floor.
He followed Teddy to a nearby room without a door. The place smelled like pee. Not clean dog pee with all kinds of exciting messages, but human pee from many different people. Shadow sneezed, and sat down to wait for the old man to come out. He couldn’t smell anything that resembled food. His ears drooped and he sighed.
A cold draft ruffled his fur. He looked back to where his boy waited. A big man approached.
Freda stood up and they grabbed hands the way humans sometimes did.
The stranger pulled a tissue from his overcoat and honked. He wore a short overcoat that fluttered open like crows’ wings, and a hat with flaps like floppy dog ears.
Shadow’s hackles rose, he didn’t know why. Behind him in the cold, hard room, water hit water and he smelled fresh old-man-pee. Shadow whined but didn’t move.
Something was bad wrong. The stranger’s posture threatened despite his mild tone. Shadow didn’t know what to do. The prickly sensation made him want to stand between Steven and the stranger. Instead, he shivered. Shadow fought the urge to roll on his back.
He wished the Teddy would hurry. He could be brave with a trusted friend by his side. People knew things, and could tell dogs what to do.
The stranger smelled of anger and something scarier. A sharp, pungent scent that rang alarms. Alarms that told Shadow to do something. Shadow’s tail tucked tight, and he showed attack-ready fangs. He crept closer, his body low to the ground. He padded with care to keep his claws quiet.
They didn’t notice him. People missed lots of important things. That frustrated Shadow sometimes. But this time being overlooked was a good thing. Mounting courage lifted his tail into a stiff bristle that matched the fierce concern of his silent snarl.
The big man pointed something at Steven, looked at it and then held it against his head and talked into it like it was a person.
Shadow crept closer and stopped directly behind Freda. They still hadn’t noticed. He heard a faint but familiar voice come from the ear-object the man held still against his head. Shadow growled, and Freda started at his voice. She finally looked at him, worried brow wrinkles asking questions. He huddled behind her and dared himself to be brave. Be a good-dog. But he couldn’t move.
The stranger reached out a hand toward Steven.
He growled again, and pressed against Freda’s leg. He felt her tremble. She was scared, too. Shadow needed to be brave. He took another step forward.
Freda licked her lips, and Shadow smelled her sudden fear, and the slight tremor in her voice increased his agitation. “Mr. Childress, what about Steven’s dog?”
Shadow flicked his ears toward her but didn’t move his attention from the stranger.
“Dog?” The man frowned, finally noticing Shadow. He reached for Steven’s arm.
“Steven, run!” Freda yelled, and backpedaled so fast she knocked over a chair.
Steven screamed. And Shadow leaped to his boy’s rescue.
The man grabbed Steven and pulled him before him like a shield.
His claws clattered for purchase. Shadow’s bark-demands escalated when Steven screamed louder, and he skidded into a nearby table, and yelped. He scrambled to his feet, and stalked within two dog-lengths. He snarled a demand for the man to let Steven go. Would he take Steven away?
Freda kept screaming. “Leave him alone!”
Shadow knew what “leave it” meant, but the strange man wouldn’t let Steven go. He placed himself protectively between Freda and the threatening stranger. He lunged and feinted away from his boy’s kicks, not wanting to injure Steven.
The man blocked Steven’s pinwheeling arms and held his boy hard against his body. “It’s just a tantrum.” He had to shout over Steven’s cries, but his worried eyes slid to Shadow.
Screams hurt Shadow’s ears. The man’s fear-smell spilled in waves but his steady stare threatened. For the first time, Shadow wanted to bite. Bite hard. He straightened his posture, arched his neck, and flagged his tail with just the tip jerking. He stared back. Ready.
Freda fumbled in her pocket. She held something to her ear.
So much fear-stink made it hard for good-dogs to think.
“Hang up the phone.” The big man held the squirmy boy by the collar the way Shadow picked up his stuffed bear toy. He backed away with Steven in his arms.
Shadow danced closer. Aimed a bite. He dodged the man’s kick, and feinted again. His ears pinned back. His tail wagged, stiff and frantic. He’d never attacked anything except his toy bear, but the bad man didn’t know. He could bluff. Sometimes a loud growl was enough.
“Call off the dog.” He pulled something out of his pocket and pointed it at Shadow. “I don’t want to shoot anyone, not even a dog.” The boy-thief’s glasses glinted as he looked around the big room.
Steven’s screams spiraled higher and higher. He turned red, and his eyes screwed shut. Shadow gathered his haunches. Good-dogs protect their boys.
Shadow danced closer and away again. Good-dogs don’t use their teeth on people. He knew that. But what if the people were bad? He wanted to bite hard, hold on, and shake him. Grab and hurt, so his boy would stop yelling. Shadow leaped, and his jaws snapped.
The stranger yelled, flinching back. Steven wriggled and screamed, making the man’s pointing hand jerk.
Freda howled and tackled the man. Something popped.
A gag-making stink burst into the air. Freda crumpled. Her head thudded on the shiny floor, and the ear-object cracked open and skidded across the slick floor.
Why’d she fall down? Shadow nose-poked her but she didn’t stir.
The man pointed at Shadow, still struggling to contain his boy by the collar. “Look what you made me do.”
He paw-danced around Freda’s form and dodged in. Shadow’s teeth snapped empty air before he bounded away. The gun continued to pop.
Steven slumped, finally silent. He hung in the stranger’s grip, eyes closed like when he slept. But he wasn’t asleep. He’d just gone to his quiet place. He did that sometimes, and hid for hours.
Teddy hid, too, out of sight in the entrance to the pee-smelly room. Shadow heard Teddy panting as though winded from a game of fetch. He whimpered, too. Shadow whined, wanting to join Teddy and hide his face against the man. But not while his boy was in the stranger’s grip.
The whole world smelled like fear. And blood. It bubbled out of Freda. That made Shadow even more determined to bite. Despite the terror. Because of fear. He glared at the man who dared take his boy. He’d make the bad man go away. It was his job to protect Steven.
The stranger stared back. He threw Steven over his shoulder, turned and lurched away.
Shadow’s paws bicycled for purchase. He lunged. His teeth clacked, snapped, and sought contact. He leaped, silent in pursuit. His fangs tore through cloth, sliced flesh. Salty skin, broken flesh, blood-taste and smell. He leaped high, grabbed again. Hung on.
The man screamed, he shrieked louder than Steven. He kicked, and a shiny shoe connected with furry ribs. Shadow yelped and rolled away. In the same motion, the man hit the mall door and pushed through.
The door slammed against Shadow’s muzzle. He yelped and leaped against the glass. Flecks of saliva salted the glass when he grabbed the metal crossbar. How to get through? Go after them. He could see him, the bad man. The boy-thief. Close. Untouchable. Taking his boy.
A good-dog would know what to do. But Shadow hadn’t a clue. He’d failed.
Bad dog. Shadow howled.
