We do all we can do. Which isn’t much.
The rain hammers. The wind shrieks. Sirens come and go in the distance.
I wonder what Ivan and Ruby are doing. And what about George and Julia? Where are they? How are they?
Boss seems scary calm. Tough as old jerky. She looks the way I want to feel.
Before long, the water is lapping onto the floor of our cages. It’s ice-cold. And moving quick. One inch, two.
Every now and then someone whimpers or moans. But mostly, we’re quiet.
“If you can stand on your hind legs, guys, do it. Climb on anything you got,” I suggest.
I turn to Boss. “When I say go, I want you to climb on my back. It’ll buy you a little time, maybe.”
“No way.”
“Please. I need to do this.”
Boss just stares at me. She’s so thin. I can see every rib.
“To make it up to you,” I add.
“What are you even talking about, Bob?”
I look away. “I’m sorry,” I say, not sure where my words are taking me. “I could’ve . . . I should’ve saved you, Boss.”
“Saved me?”
“The thing is . . . I heard you on the highway. And I should’ve—”
My voice trails off. I stifle a sob.
“Bob, we were puppies. Tiny puppies. Don’t be ridiculous. How exactly were you going to save me?”
“I dunno. But I should have tried.”
“We both did what we had to do.” Boss nudges me gently. “Bob. This is crazy.”
“I just . . . I can’t seem to forgive myself.” I whisper it, but I know she hears me.
Beneath the water, I feel a paw on mine. “I forgive you. Okay? Not that you need it, mind you. One condition, though.”
I nod, wait.
“You have to forgive yourself, too.”
Again I nod, and slowly but surely something fine and warm begins to fill my heart.