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Shadow fidgeted in the back seat of the car. It had been an eventful day and he yawned loud and long.
In the front seat, September made the car go, turning the wheel this way and that, while peering at him in the mirror now and then. Each time their eyes met, he beat his tail on the soft throw that covered the car seat. He couldn’t help it. Looking at her made his chest thump faster. Maybe his tail was connected to that thump-place in his chest?
She’d told him “good-dog” many times when he found the dog and lady. The Teddy-man did, too, and patted his head but only for a minute before he took the lady inside. Shadow wanted to play with the other dog—they called her Trixie—but he could tell Trixie wanted to stay with Teddy’s lady. He understood. That other dog fretted about Teddy’s lady the way Shadow worried about September.
He worried about September sometimes, too. Earlier when they’d been in the car together, she’d grabbed and squeezed him hard, but not to wrestle-fight the way dogs do. Instead she shook and trembled, raining tears and spilling acrid fear-stink that made him wrinkle his nose. He stayed still and quiet, licking her face to show he meant no harm until her breathing quieted and she pretended to be all right.
But it was pretend. A good-dog knew the difference.
“Tired? Ready to go home?” She met his eyes in the mirror again and smiled.
He thwacked his tail. The tension in her voice had faded and her shoulders relaxed. He turned and lifted his nose to the window where wind blew through the crack. Most of the fear-stink washed away in the cold air but some clung to his fur where she’d grabbed him. He shook his head, flapping his ears hard, and breathed deeply to clean the stink from his nostrils. Shadow liked sticking his nose out the window, liked to drink sips of the many smell-flavors they drove through as they sped along the car path.
Cars stayed on these paths and never veered off. Well, mostly. Sometimes cars got confused. He sniffed hard again as September slowed and turned the wheel to the driveway. She stopped and stared for a moment at the stranger’s car squashed against the gate.
Turning from the window, he pushed his nose through the grill barrier, as much as would reach, to get a closer sniff of where Macy had rested on the front passenger seat. He was confused by much of the cat’s behavior, but September cared about Macy, maybe as much as she cared about Shadow. Even if Macy paw-swatted a good-dog’s nose for trying to get a sniff, Shadow didn’t like having his cat gone. He wondered why September had left Macy at the clinic. Why didn’t Shadow get to go inside? The people inside always gave him treats.
He wondered if Macy got treats, too. He’d like a treat now. Maybe he’d get a treat when they went back into the house. Shadow licked his lips.
“I can’t get my gate fixed until the police tow Sly’s car.” She made the car go again, and they drove into the big building where the car slept when they didn’t use it. Shadow woofed. He didn’t know what she said, but it seemed polite to talk back when she spoke to him. She talked to him a lot, and he only understood some of it. People knew lots more than dogs. September was always right. Well, almost always.
He waited impatiently for her to climbed out and open his door. For a moment he thought she might leave him to wait in the car again, and he yelped and pawed the door. The window smoothly scrolled down, and he happily stuck his head and chest out of the opening.
“Crap! Shadow, wait.” She hurried to open his door before he managed to climb out on his own. He’d done that before, and didn’t understand why she objected.
“You’re too darn smart. Forgot to engage the child-lock on the windows.” Her voice scolded but she couldn’t hide her smile so Shadow knew she wasn’t mad. He hopped out, and offered a butt-high invitation to play. “Go on, big guy. I’ll meet you at the door.”
He bounded away, taking advantage of the opportunity to sniff the area. The garage smelled of small furry creatures tucked away in shadowed nests. Nothing new there. Shadow dashed through the double barn doors, and despite her permission to forge ahead, he waited for September. She got nervous if they were apart, and that made Shadow feel funny, too. So instead, he pretended to sniff the pavement until she made the big doors slide closed.
The usual sounds and smells filled his world. Fresh cut and burned cedar—the gardener had cleared the scrubby trees behind the house. A coyote. Sick raccoon. Shadow wrinkled his nose and wanted to investigate but wouldn’t leave September.
Metal creaked and squealed from the swivel atop the car house, screaming like an angry Macy. And something else. He lifted his nose from the spore and paused, waited until the wind shifted. The several sets of toys hung all around the house echoed in bongs, chimes and cricket-chirp pitches, some glittery like shattered ice falling to the ground. In the show-me game, September named them ‘wind chimes.’
“Shadow, let’s go.” September stood beside him, tapping her foot and swept a gloved hand toward the front door.
There! Floating on the wind, now strong and then gone, but definitely there. A familiar scent, from the back garden, Aaron the gardener again. But different. He growled, his notched ear twitching with sense memory, and his hackles rose. He pressed against September’s legs, putting himself between her and the smell.
Blood. Lots and lots of blood.
