I pause to listen. I hear humans shouting, and I can make out what sounds like police radio chatter.
But I don’t hear Boss. I’m right here, right at the source. Nothing.
It wasn’t her bark I heard.
She’s dead and I’m crazy and hearing things and drenched and shivering and where is Julia, where is George—
“Hey, little guy.” The door eases open, just a crack.
Every bone in my body, every smart part of my doggie brain, says RUN.
This is an animal shelter. A flooding one, apparently. My sister isn’t here. And I still have to find George and Julia.
The door moves.
Swoop.
The loop comes down around my neck so fast that for a moment I don’t know what it is. It’s like a cowboy’s lasso, the kind in old Western movies I used to watch with Ivan.
But this lasso is at the end of a long metal handle.
And at the end of the long metal handle is a man.
“Stay calm, buddy.” The man eases me, gently but firmly, off the sandbags and through the door.
I’m inside the bow-wow big house.
The hound pound.
The pet pokey.
Oops.