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SHADOW WAITED FOR SEPTEMBER to unhook the short leash and stuff it in her pocket. He hopped into his usual backseat perch in September’s car, next to where he’d left bear-toy, but watched anxiously until she climbed behind the wheel. Only then did he begin to relax. He whined softly, still anxious about all of the strangers milling around the house. Shadow rarely had reason to threaten and even fewer occasions to bite. But scary people made indelible impressions. He knew the man’s scent, and the taste of his boot. Shadow swiveled his head, cocking his ears and huffing the cold air, ever watchful for the limping stranger.
There! Far in the distance, quickly walking away. He could see movement far away much more clearly than things closer to him. Shadow growled again and pawed the window button. He stuck his nose out when the glass scrolled down. The man’s scent rode the wind, colored with anger and fear, and some murky emotion that spoke of dread. The man climbed into a distant car.
Some people like Steele naturally commanded authority, never needing more than tall posture and direct stares. Others, like the departing man, used words to mean one thing while their body said something else. Bad people demanded obedience with sticks, fists, and guns, lying to themselves about their worthiness.
Good-dogs could always tell the difference. Even when the tall detective pointed a gun at him, Shadow knew Steele didn’t want to shoot. He just used the gun like a dog’s warning snarl to say, back off! Shadow could tell Steele had no heart for blood-letting. Oh, he’d shoot, but only if necessary.
Not like the burn-faced man. Shadow whimpered under his breath. That bad-man didn’t bluff the way dogs did, to avoid hurtful confrontations. No, he delivered on every threat. The scent of intent didn’t lie.
“Shadow, you’ll let out all the warm air.” September sharpened her voice into a command. “Window.” His ears drooped but he pawed the button again at her direction, so the glass closed. September fiddled with something on her own door. “I wish the child locks were set-and-forget, so I don’t have to remember each time. You’re too smart.”
He sighed. He learned from an early age to obey people, even if it made no sense to a good-dog. September knew much more than Shadow and could do wonderful, exciting things like make cars go fast, and create warm air gusts to thaw a dog’s cold paws.
But sometimes dogs knew better than people, even than September. So Shadow paid careful attention to what September asked of him. He mostly did as she asked, because they loved each other and he trusted her. But sometimes he had to ignore her requests when it meant keeping her safe. He’d made a mistake today when he got locked in the yard away from her. He wouldn’t let that happen again.
Crippled with a blind nose, and deaf to all but the loudest noises, September—really, most all humans—couldn’t tell bad people from good ones, scary situations from safe. For a long time, to compensate for these deficits, September kept everyone at a cautious distance, even him. But the more she learned to trust Shadow, and special friends like Combs, the happier she became. Shadow wanted September happy, so she didn’t suffer from any more terrifying gone-times. But the more she relaxed, the more Shadow’s responsibility grew to keep them both safe.
His tummy growled.
“I heard that. We missed dinner, didn’t we?” September half-turned in her seat, to reach back and gently rub his ear. “I think we all deserve some treats.”
He thumped his tail and licked his lips. Macy, in the carrier in the rear cargo area, meerowed loud agreement at the treat word. Shadow leaned hard against her hand, grateful to have September’s attention all to himself. He almost didn’t care about the missed meal. Almost.
His paws ached from the snow. He licked and nibbled away the ice that crusted fur between his pads. Shadow enjoyed snow, but he’d been out in the weather far longer than usual.
“Detective Steele won’t let us back into the house to get our stuff, at least not for a while. We’ll figure something out for food.”
Shadow tipped his head at the word, and licked his lips.
“Drive-through on the way to the dog park it is. We need to meet some old friends. You remember Karma?” She fiddled with something and the hot air rushed louder.
Arching his neck, Shadow leaped to his feet. He stared through first one side window and then the other, tail waving. Karma! Where? A burbled whine turned into a frustrated bark.
September laughed. “I guess you do remember your girlfriend. Settle down, Shadow.” Her voice turned somber. “You and Karma can have a play date, while Tee explains what she means by a feline conspiracy.”
