As the sun began to sink low in the sky, the distinctive scent penetrating the air from the broken windows of the building told the dog what he would find inside it. This troubled him but didn’t stop him from wanting to get in.
It had been two days since the dog had caught a fresh scent of the female he’d mated with, the one whose belly had thickened and whose already-troubled walk had slowed considerably the last few days. The only food she seemed to have been eating was the food he’d been leaving for her.
Having trailed her scent across her territory, the dog knew that the night before she’d entered this building, she’d slept behind a Dumpster. The ground where she’d slept that night still smelled of something ripe and unfamiliar. It was different from the way she’d smelled when she’d allowed him to mate with her. This new scent didn’t fill him with a renewed ache to mate, but had heightened his curiosity to find her. It was a blend of blood and mucus and something else he’d never smelled.
Yesterday, he’d followed her trail to this building but couldn’t find how she’d gotten in. Today, before coming here, he’d trotted throughout her usual range and discovered no fresh whiffs of her scent. So he’d returned here.
Today, the smell of her wafted out of the building, confirming his thoughts. Still, he wouldn’t rest until he found his way inside. The entries to the building were shut, doors and windows alike, but somehow she’d gotten in.
One side of the building was blocked by a fence. The dog traveled alongside the fence until he reached a section where the fence was mangled and broken just above the ground. He could smell her faded scent here and understood this was how he could get to her.
After finding that he was too large to crawl under the mangled fence, he dug and dug at the earth below it. While he was digging, a car passed close enough to catch his notice. He looked up and saw that it was filled with several men, including one who beckoned him from an open window. The dog stopped and sniffed. He could smell the sickly scent of Donna’s stringent drink emanating from their pores and their breath. The dog bolted off, running far out of their sight, returning only when he could no longer hear or see the car.
After a lot more digging and a struggle, he was finally able to crawl underneath. The sharp fence scratched his sides through his thick fur. Once inside the fence, he stood up and shook himself off. Then, he followed his mate’s scent straight to a heavily rotted door. Using a paw, he was able to tug the heavy door open enough to slip inside.
The smell inside the building was stale and choking, reminding him of some of the buildings where he’d spent dark, cold nights with Donna, nights that he’d passed eagerly waiting for the sun to rise and Donna to be on the move again.
Nose to the ground, the dog hopped over the discarded human things inside the long-empty building. Far down one hallway, the dog heard several tiny cries and trotted toward them. A whine slipped from his throat before he entered the room. As he’d known from outside, his mate had followed Donna into the great sleep, but not before giving birth to her pups.
He sniffed each one and nudged them with his nose. They were males and females of different colors and sizes. They were helpless and immobile, cuddled together into a giant, wriggling ball at her side. He could smell from their breath that most of them had been able to drink their mother’s milk before she grew still, but they couldn’t drink it now. They huddled and whined and slept and waited.
Smelling the fading milk on their breath, the dog was reminded of his own days as a small pup, reminded of being content and warm and safe against his mother. He remembered the feel of her tongue—warm, wet, and healing—and the delicious smell of her fur.
The dog sank to his haunches, then to the floor beside them, licking them and warming them, but unable to provide them with the nourishment they needed. They sniffed and nuzzled him as he warmed them. Beside them, their mother lay still, her eyes closed in the great sleep.
The dog barked and howled, hoping to entice a human into the building. If Donna were with him, she’d wrap them in blankets and care for them. But Donna was gone. And there were no other humans the dog trusted.
He lay close beside the pups to keep them warm and finally dozed himself. When he awoke, it was dark, and the pups were noticeably more still. The dog understood that giving them warmth wouldn’t be enough to keep them from following their mother into the great sleep.
Parting from the pups, the dog left the building and struggled underneath the fence, determined to take action though unsure of what action to take.
He barked loudly at the first several cars that passed. Most passed by without acknowledging him. One car made a terrifying, blaring noise that sent the dog running. Another car stopped, and a human called to him from inside it. He approached cautiously, barking and yipping as he wagged his tail, hoping the small group of humans inside would understand his signals.
Instead, the dog was surprised to have something thrown at him. It smashed hard against his hip after he’d spotted it being hurled toward him and had dodged to the side. The object was long and wooden and clanked to the ground, rolling away. The dog limped off in the opposite direction of the car, filled with fear and desperation.
He traveled in the direction of the man who had been leaving piles of food for him, though it was too far away to entice the man toward the building with the waiting pups. When he reached the man’s building, he found a small pile of crunchy food waiting for him. He gobbled a few bites and then barked, looking up toward where the man had once stood and thrown him delicious food. He barked and barked, but the man didn’t appear.
Not knowing what else to do, the dog scooped up a mouthful of the crunchy food, holding it between his tongue and the roof of his mouth. He headed back toward the pups, hoping it would be a replacement for the milk they were craving.